Dream On
by mojoco
Summary: Sequel to "Nightmare."
1. Part One

****

Dream On

~Sequel to "Nightmare"~

Rating: PG-13; other chapters may be rated higher

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, they belong to JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions.

________________

Part One

"I'm pregnant."

Michael stares at her from the bed, where he sits reading. "Are you kidding?"

Sydney's eyes fill with tears as she leans against the doorjamb to the bathroom that adjoins their room, shaking her head. She glances down at the pregnancy test in her hand, hoping that the plus sign has turned to a minus in the past thirty seconds. Of course it hasn't.

"But-- honey," Michael says tentatively, paling a little. "Gracie's only five months old."

"I know!" Sydney practically shouts. "Which means that this new one was conceived when she was only four months old, which means that when this new one is born, we'll have a newborn and a thirteen-month-old on our hands."

"Four months--" a sheepish smile spreads over Michael's face. "You think he or she was conceived in Jamaica?"

It is Sydney's turn to look sheepish. "I-- I wasn't good about taking my birth control pill down there, I mean, I didn't take it at the same time every day like you're supposed to. _We were probably making this baby when I was supposed to be taking my pill, Michael_!"

Michael hides a smile with his hand, but not before Sydney sees. "Sure, laugh it up," she says, biting her lower lip to keep the tears from falling. "You're not the one who's going to be home all day, every day with an infant and a one-year-old. We'll be lucky if Gracie is even walking by then, Michael, and she'll definitely still be in diapers. I'll have _two children_ in diapers, Michael!"

"I'm sure Gracie will be walking," Michael says. "Emily walked at ten months, and Jack walked on his first birthday, remember?"

"Well, that's even better." Sydney tosses the pregnancy test in the general direction of the trash and flings herself down on their bed. "I'll be chasing her around all day."

"Maybe this one will be a boy," Michael blurts out.

Sydney rewards him with a Look.

"I mean, I don't care, as long as it's healthy," he says hastily. "But it would be nice, you know, to have two girls and two boys."

"Michael--"

"Maybe we can name him Sam," Michael says, a smile beginning to spread over his face. "Samuel Michael Vaughn."

Sydney sits up, mouth agape. "I'm still in the _how did this happen _stage, and you're already naming him-- if its even a him-- after yourself?"

"You don't want his middle name to be Michael?"

"_That's not the point_!" she stands and begins to pace. "I'm freaking out here, Michael, and you're probably already thinking about converting the guest bedroom into a nursery."

His eyes light up. "Maybe when we find out if it's a girl or a boy, we can paint the walls blue. If it's a boy, of course."

Sydney lets out a frustrated scream. "I don't think I can talk to you right now, Michael. I need to call someone who'll understand how freaked out I am about this."

Michael smirks. "I suggest you not call my mother, then."

"Yeah, and I'd better not call my father until I'm happy about this, or he'll make me want to kill myself," Sydney says, biting her lower lip. Her father has always been skeptical of her decision to stay home and raise the kids, but he's been willing to hold his tongue as long as she is happy; if he thinks she isn't happy, he'll make her feel even worse.

"Until you're happy about this," Michael repeats. "Does that mean you think you will be, eventually?"

"Oh, of course, Michael," she sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. "I mean…it's a baby."

He smiles, kissing her once, lightly.

"I just don't understand how this happened," she says. He slides over so she can lie down next to him. "I mean, I do, of course, but…I mean, we waited to have Jack until we'd bought the house and you'd made partner, then Emily came just under three years after him, and Grace three and a half years after her," she sighs. "We planned to have all of them, we wanted to have them. And I mean…I could handle a fourth, maybe, in a couple of years, if that's what we decided we wanted, but not _now_, not when Gracie's still a baby."

"Sydney, it'll be fine," he says, only now beginning to look a little worried by her attitude. "I promise it'll be fine. We can hire someone to help you out."

"No, Michael," she says, her eyes filling with tears all over again. "I don't want someone to help me out, I want to raise our babies ourselves."

"But Sydney--"

"I can do it," she insists. "People have twins all the time."

"Having twin newborns is different than having a four-year-old, a one-year-old, and an infant at home," Michael points out.

"A four-year-old, oh, God, Michael, Emily won't even be in school by the time this one gets here."

"She can go to preschool."

"Then I'll just have to bundle everyone up and drive her there, oh, Michael, do you know what a chore it is to go _anywhere _with babies?" she says woefully. "And I just gave away my maternity clothes, Michael, I _gave them away_."

"You'll buy new ones."

"We'll go broke."

"We won't go broke."

She sighs. "I know you're just trying to make me feel better, Michael, but I don't want to feel better right now, I want to freak out about this."

"Fine," he says, clicking off the bedside lamp. "Let's go to sleep."

"And I don't want to hire someone to help me, Michael," she insists. "Taking care of the babies is what I do, and if I can't even do that--"

"We'll see," he says softly. "How do you think you're going to carry around Gracie when you're seven or eight months pregnant?"

"I don't know," she says, the tears sliding down her cheeks for real now. "But people do this, Michael, they have babies a year apart."

He doesn't say anything, and she feels panic slice through her. "Don't they?"

"Of course they do," he says, rubbing her back comfortingly.

"Four babies. _Four_ babies, Michael."

"Go to sleep, Syd."

It is then that they hear Gracie crying through the baby monitor, and Sydney moans. "Hear that? That sound's not going to go away for _the rest of our lives_."

"I'll go see what she needs," Michael says, kissing her cheek. "It's going to be fine, Syd."

She wishes that she felt so sure.


	2. Part Two

****

Part Two

"I'm never going to that doctor again."

Michael looks up at her, a look of bewilderment in his green eyes. She can guess why-- it's not every day that she just barges into his office without so much as a word to his secretary. She's probably the only person in the world he would tolerate such behavior from, with the possible exception of their children.

"Syd," he says, glancing sideways at Jake Hansen, who is seated across from him at his desk. "You already went to the doctor? I thought you were going to come here first so I could go with you."

"I'm sorry, Michael, but I was running so late. Emily threw up, and Grace needed a diaper change, and--"

"Emily threw up? Is she okay?"

"She's fine. She ate a bug."

"She ate a bug? What is she, a cat?"

"Fascinating as this is," Jake says, looking as if he has just wandered into _The Twilight Zone_. "I think I'll head back to my office. We'll finish this up later, Mike?"

"Yeah, Jake," Michael says, rubbing his forehead wearily. "I shouldn't be more than half an hour."

"All right," Jake says. "Good to see you, Syd."

"You too, Jake," Sydney says, feeling a little embarrassed for the way she'd barged in. When he leaves, she says, "I'm sorry, Mike, I'm such a wreck."

"It's okay. Sit down, honey," he says, gesturing to the chair that Jake left empty. "First things first. You found someone to watch Grace and Emily? Where did you leave them after the bug eating incident? And did you actually see her eat this bug?"

"No," Sydney says, smiling at the ridiculousness of the situation. "I mean, yes, I found someone to watch them, no, I didn't see her eat the bug. I was getting Gracie zipped into her coat, and then I hear Emily throw up, and I rush over to clean her up, and I say, 'Why didn't you tell me you didn't feel good, angel?,' an she says, 'I ate a bug, Mommy.' Like, apparently she found one crawling on the floor, or something."

"Great," Michael says with a smile. "So who did you get to watch them?"

"I dropped them off with Mrs. Winthrop."

"Mrs. _Winthrop_?" Michael groans. "That's why she ate the bug, Sydney. She was trying to make herself sick so she wouldn't have to go to her house."

"Oh, Mrs. Winthrop is not that bad," Sydney says, rolling her eyes.

"Emily hates her."

"She was the best I could do, on short notice," Sydney counters. She smiles, almost in spite of herself. "I didn't want our little girls to find out that Mommy was having a baby before their daddy did."

"You're really pregnant?" he asks joyfully.

"I really am."

"Oh, honey." He walks around the desk, and she rises so he can hug her. "Even after everything you said last night, you would have been disappointed if you hadn't been, wouldn't you?"

"Maybe just a little," Sydney says, touching her own stomach. "I still think this is totally the wrong time, and I hate that we didn't plan it, but now that I know for sure that he or she is coming…" she shrugs as if to say, _What are you going to do?_

"How far along are you?" Michael asks, covering her hands with his own.

"Five weeks," Sydney tells him.

"So, Jamaica then?"

"Jamaica," she says, kissing him.

"Everything's okay so far?"

"It's just fine, baby."

"Good." He kisses her, and says, "So why are you never going to that doctor again?"

Sydney rolls her eyes. "I probably will. She just made me feel ridiculous. I told her I thought I was pregnant, and she was like, _But Gracie's only five months old…aren't you taking some kind of birth control…_and so on, and so on, as if it's completely ridiculous for a woman my age to have an unplanned pregnancy." She looks away. "Maybe it is ridiculous."

"It's not ridiculous," he assures her. "It's wonderful."

She smiles weakly. "I'm still so nervous, Michael. Gracie will still be so little."

"We'll figure things out," he says.

She adjusts his tie-- it always seems to come loose at some point in the day-- and kisses him. "I have to go, baby. I have to be back in time to get Jack from school. I'm sorry for the way I barged in here."

"It's okay, sweetie. I love you."

"Love you, Michael."


	3. Part Three

****

Part Three

Sydney hears the front door click open that evening, and as usual, Emily runs to greet Michael.

"Daddeeee!"

"Hey, princess," Sydney hears Michael say, and she knows Michael is sweeping her into his arms. Their son Jack is quieter, less easily excitable; he is content to stay in the backyard with his basketball hoop, no matter what the weather, and greet his father at the dinner table. She wonders if Grace will join Emily on her run to the door once she is walking and talking, if this next baby will. That has to be the thing Sydney likes best about being a mother-- watching the children develop personalities, become little people. She is looking forward to seeing what they are like as older children, as teenagers, as adults.

"How was your day?" Michael asks Emily then.

"Not too good, Daddy. I ate a bug and I throwed up and then Mommy made us go to Mrs. Winthrop's."

"Emily," Sydney admonishes as Michael carries their oldest daughter into the kitchen. "Didn't Mommy buy you ice cream on the way home from picking Jack up from school? That part was fun, wasn't it?"

"She wouldn't let me get chocolate sauce and whipped cream on my ice cream cause she said I'd make a mess," Emily tells her father solemnly.

Sydney rolls her eyes as Michael puts Emily down and moves to kiss his wife. "Mommy couldn't do anything right today," Sydney murmurs to Michael.

"Has she been pouting about one thing or another all day?" Michael asks softly.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Should we get Jack and tell them about the baby?"

Sydney sighs. "If we must." It's hard to predict what Emily's reaction to this will be, and she's not sure if she's quite prepared to handle it.

Michael kisses her on the cheek, pausing to coo at Gracie before moving to the backyard to get Jack.

"Why don't the two of you sit at the kitchen table," Michael instructs Jack and Emily. "Oh, and Jack, why don't you hold Gracie," he adds, lifting the girl out of her playpen.

"She can't understand this, Michael," Sydney murmurs.

"She should still be part of this," Michael insists, carefully arranging the girl in Jack's arms.

"Is this a family meeting?" Jack asks with a frown.

"Yeah, buddy, it is," Michael tells him.

Jack's eyes widen. "Are we moving again?" The last family meeting they'd called had been to tell the kids they were moving to New York.

"No, sweetheart, we aren't moving," Sydney assures him.

Jack's eyes widen further as he presumably remembers the only other reason his parents have ever called a family meeting. "Then Mommy's having a baby."

Emily frowns at Jack, her little face screwed up in confusion. "But we already have a baby."

Sydney bites her lower lip, suddenly near tears. Michael takes her hand and squeezes it. "Emily, do you remember how long it took for Grace to be born after we told you that Mommy was going to have her?" Michael asks. "By the time this baby is born, Grace won't be a baby anymore."

"Will she be big as me?" Emily asks.

"I wish," Sydney murmurs.

Michael nudges her in the side. "No, sweetie, but she'll be able to walk, and to say Mama and Daddy."

"Will she be able to say Emily?" Emily asks, eyes widening hopefully.

"Maybe if you work with her, she'll say Emily first."

"Michael," Sydney says, rolling her eyes. He'd convinced Jack he could get Emily to say Jack first, too, and then she'd refused to say it until well after she'd been able to say Mama and Daddy. She'd even managed to say Eric Weiss's name before she'd said Jack.

"So you're really going to have a baby, Mom?" Jack asks. "That's great."

"Thanks, sweetie," Sydney says, ruffling his hair affectionately.

"Will it be a boy or a girl?" Emily asks with a frown.

"We don't know yet, honey," Sydney tells her.

"What will its name be?"

Sydney and Michael exchange a glance. "We don't know that either, Emily," Sydney says. "Maybe Sam, if it's a boy."

"I want it to be a boy," Emily decides, scrambling out of her chair. She is staring at her mother's stomach, and Sydney crouches down so she can have a better view. "It's in there?"

"Yes, sweetie."

"Hi, Sam," Emily says to Sydney's stomach. "I'm your big sister Emily."

Sydney's eyes fill with happy tears this time, and she thinks that moments like this one make having another one worth it.


	4. Part Four

****

Part Four

Sydney tucks her son into bed that night, brushing his brown hair away from his forehead. She has just read him a story, and now it is time to say goodnight.

"Goodnight, sweetie," she says fondly. She has a soft spot for her little boy; he is so sweet, has such a good heart. "I love you very much."

"I love you, too, Mommy," he says. "I'm happy you're having a baby."

"Thank you, sweetie." She kisses the top of his head and moves toward the door. "You want me to leave the door open a crack?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay. Goodnight, Mommy."

"Goodnight, Jack."

She can hear Michael's voice in Emily's room and figures that he has not finished tucking her in yet, so she moves to join them. She reaches the doorway just in time to hear Emily ask, "How did the baby get in Mommy's tummy, Daddy?"

Sydney leans against the doorjamb, interested to hear how he'll answer this one.

There is a long moment of silence before he begins, "Well, Emily, when two people really love each other--"

"Michael," Sydney says, rolling her eyes.

He glances at her. "Hmm?"

"I think we can save the birds and the bees speech until she's at least four, okay?"

Michael blushes. "Okay. Goodnight, Emily."

"Goodnight, Daddy. Come here, Mommy," Emily demands. "I want to say goodnight to you and Sam."

Sydney smiles and approaches the bed. "Goodnight, sweetheart," she says, smoothing her daughter's hair.

"Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Sam," Emily says, patting Sydney's stomach.

"You're so sweet," Sydney tells her. It's true. Her daughter can be bratty, but she, like her brother, has a heart of gold.

"I love you, Mommy."

"I love you too, sweetheart." She and Michael take turns giving their little girl goodnight kisses, then they leave the room together.

"Grace and Jack asleep?" Michael asks as she slips her arm around his waist and lays her head on his shoulder.

"Grace was before I put her in the crib, and Jack's all settled in," Sydney reports.

"Do you want to go downstairs and watch TV for awhile, or do you want to go to bed?" he asks.

"Let's just go to bed," she says with a yawn. "It's been a long day."

"Yes, it has."

"So," he says as they go about the business of changing out of their clothes-- he sleeps in an undershirt and boxers, she in pajama pants and a tank top. "You know we're going to have to name that baby Sam whether it's a boy or girl now."

"Actually," Sydney says, moving into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. "I was thinking I'd like to call it Maggie, if it's a girl. Short for Marguerite, for your mother." Jack William is named after both of their fathers, and Grace was Sydney's mother's middle name, so they have the rest of their parents covered.

"That's a great idea, Syd," Michael says with a smile. "Maggie Michelle Vaughn."

Sydney rolls her eyes. "Determined to get your own name in there, aren't you?"

He smiles, moving behind her to go about brushing his own teeth and washing his own face. "Well, this is probably going to be the last baby."

"_Probably_?" she repeats. "Nuh-uh. No probably, Michael. Is. You're getting a vasectomy after this."

"What, you're serious?"

"You don't really want to try for five, do you?" she asks, horrified.

"Well…no," he says. "But a vasectomy?"

"It's a very simple procedure," she informs him, spitting out a mouthful of toothpaste. "Outpatient surgery."

"You asked the doctor about it, didn't you?"

"Maybe," she says, moving back to their bedroom. "Anyway, it's either that or never have sex again."

The look on his face is so horrified that she has to laugh. "Okay. Vasectomy. Do you want me to call and make an appointment tomorrow, or--?"

She giggles. "You can wait till after the baby's born, if you want. I don't think I can get pregnant _again_."

"In that case," he says with a devilish smile. He leans over to kiss her, and within a few seconds, she is kissing him back with abandon.

"Love you, Mike," she breathes as his lips travel down her neck.

"Love you, Syd."


	5. Part Five

****

Part Five

Sydney stirs the next morning as Michael sits down on the edge of the bed to lace up his dress shoes. A glance at the clock tells her that it is five-thirty a.m.

"It's so early, Michael," she murmurs drowsily.

He notices she is awake and moves to kiss her. "Morning, sweetheart. I have a busy day today. Meetings, and I have to go to court."

"Will you be home late?" she asks. 

"I'll try not to be, but I'll call if it looks like I will be," he says. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, Jake asked if we want to go out to dinner with him and Heather on Friday."

Sydney smirks. "Was that before or after I stormed into your office like a lunatic?"

"After, believe it or not," he says with a smile.

"Did you tell him I'm having a baby?" Sydney asks.

"Yeah, I did," Michael says, a bit apologetically. "I hope you don't mind, I know we haven't even told our parents yet."

"Our parents," she moans. "Please tell me I don't have to tell my father today."

"You don't think he'll be happy?" 

"Oh, he'll just react in that awful, stilted way he always does. 'That's…great, sweetheart. If that's what you want.' _If that's what you want_, in other words, 'You're crazy, but I won't say anything because you seem happy.'"

"It doesn't matter what he thinks," Michael says, rubbing her shoulders comfortingly. She falls against his chest and lets him hold her for a moment before she continues.

"I'm sorry for the way I sprung the whole vasectomy thing on you," she says apologetically. "We can talk about it more, if you want, I just thought--"

"That if we're serious about not having more kids, we should do something permanent about it," he finishes. "I know, honey. I agree. And I know that a vasectomy is much less of a big deal than the operation that you'd have to have."

"Thanks for understanding," Sydney says gratefully. "You've been amazing these last few days, Michael, and I've been a wreck."

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart."

She toys with his tie playfully. "How will I _ever_ make it up to you?"

He returns her devilish smile. "I think you started to last night."

"Mmm, you liked that, did you?" she asks, trailing a line down the front of his dress shirt. If anyone had told her she'd be having this kind of mind-blowing sex after ten years of marriage, she isn't sure if she would have believed them. But they were just so in tune with each other; they knew just what it took to make the other feel incredible, and they were still discovering new things every day.

"You are so--" he begins to kiss a trail down her neck. "--amazing."

She gasps as he hits a sensitive spot on her collarbone. "Don't go to work, baby. Stay here in bed with me."

"Don't tempt me," he groans.

They hear Gracie crying through the baby monitor before things can get out of hand.

"Looks like its off to work for me, too," she says regretfully, throwing her legs over the side of the bed.

"Okay," he says, standing up. "Oh, what should I tell Jake about Friday?"

"Let me see if I can arrange a sitter, and I'll call you," Sydney says.

"Sounds good. See you tonight, sweetheart." He kisses her and starts out of the room, pausing at the door. "Syd, seriously, last night was…"

She smiles. In the nearly eleven years they've been lovers, he's never been able to finish that sentence. "Have a good day at work, baby."


	6. Part Six

****

Part Six

Sydney has just put Grace down for a nap when the phone rings. She winces, gazing at the baby to see if she's going to wake up. Mercifully, she does not, and Emily snatches up the phone.

"Hello?" she chirps. "Grampy!" she says delightedly. "It's me, Emily!"

__

Showtime, Sydney thinks. _Time to--_

"I'm good, Grampy," Emily interrupts her thoughts. "Guess what? Mommy's going to have a baby!"

Sydney claps a hand over her mouth in horror. _Shit. Shit shit shit shit--_

"Nope, another one. It's going to be a boy. His name is Sam. Oh, okay." She holds out the phone to her mother. "He wants to talk to you."  


"Surprise, surprise," Sydney mutters, taking the phone. "Emily, sweetheart, why don't you go play in your room, and I'll come get you when it's time for lunch, okay?"

"Okay!" Emily says, scrambling off.

"Hi, Dad," Sydney says weakly into the phone. 

"Sydney, please tell me your daughter was joking."

"No, Dad," Sydney says, leaning against the fridge. "Well, except we don't know if it's going to be a boy yet. We told her we were thinking of naming it Sam if it was, and she's--"

"Sydney, I don't think I have to remind you that your youngest daughter is only five months old."

Sydney twirls a few strands of hair around her index finger, feeling very much like a teenager who has just been caught sneaking into the house late. _But why should I? I'm having a baby. That's supposed to be a wonderful thing. And it's not like you were ever around to catch me sneaking in late, anyway._ Out loud, she says, "Of course you don't."

"I'm assuming this wasn't planned."

Sydney sighs. "No, Dad, it wasn't."

"Then how--" he pauses. "I know it's ridiculous to ask how this happened, but how did this happen?"

__

Well, Dad, when two people really love each other… "Michael took me to Jamaica for Valentine's Day."

"You know that's not what I meant, Sydney."

"Well, I'm not sure what you want me to say," Sydney says. "Yes, I was on something, but that's not always effective." _Especially if you don't use it properly._ "And yes, I know that it's very soon after Gracie was born, and I'm more than a little nervous--" _Terrified is more like it. _"But it's coming, and there's nothing we can do about it. Michael and I are very excited."

"Of course Michael's excited," Jack counters. "You're the one who's going to be home with a houseful of children all day while he's off making millions. He only gets the fun parts of being a parent, Sydney."

__

Which is more than I can say for you, Sydney thought, eyes flooding with tears. "Not that you would know this," she says, eyes flooding with tears. "But working does not exclude you from everything but _the fun parts_."

"Then why don't you do it?"

Sydney bites her lower lip. "Working is something you do to make money. We don't need my income, so I don't work. I know this might be hard for you to understand, but I actually _like_ spending time with my kids."

Sydney takes his silence as her cue to keep going. "Michael happens to be a _wonderful_ father, and a wonderful husband, and we're very happy, and I wish you could just be happy for us."

Another long silence. "I'm sorry, Sydney. I won't pretend to know anything about the kind of life you live. If you really are happy, then yes, I am happy for you. Congratulations on the baby."

Sydney takes a deep breath. "Thank you," she says. "You're still coming out in May for Emily's birthday, aren't you?"

"Yes, sweetheart. I was actually calling to let you know that I bought my ticket."

"You bought it?" Sydney repeated. "Dad, Michael was going to take care of the tickets."

"I don't need your husband to buy me a plane ticket, Sydney."

Sydney stares up at the ceiling, willing herself not to scream. She counts to ten before continuing. "Of course you don't, Dad. But we thought that you and Marguerite could fly out together. It would be easier to coordinate picking you up from the airport that way."

"I was planning on renting a car, anyway."

__

So damned difficult. "Well, then, it sounds like everything's settled," she says brusquely, wanting only to end the conversation. "Listen, I have to go, I'm sure Emily's getting hungry, but I'll call back when it gets closer to her birthday and get your flight arrangements so we know what day and time to expect you."

"All right." His voice is quiet, regretful, but she knows that he is not about to apologize for a damned thing. "I'll talk to you later, Sydney. Tell Michael, Jack, and Grace hello, and tell Emily it was nice talking to her."

__

You talked to her for a total of about thirty seconds, and you didn't even ask about Michael, Jack, and Grace, Sydney seethes. Instead, she just says, "I will, Dad. Bye."

"Goodbye, Sydney."

Sydney waits until she hears him hang up, and then she slams the phone down. She slams it a couple of times, just because it feels so good.

"What are you doing, Mommy?"

Sydney isn't sure whether to laugh or cry as she looks at her daughter. She does neither. "Nothing, sweetheart. Does tuna sound good for lunch?"

Emily's eyes grow wide with anticipation. "With pickles, Mommy? And toasted bread?"

"Whatever you want, darling."

She takes her daughter's hand and guides her to a kitchen chair, then goes about the business of preparing lunch, pushing the conversation with her father to the back of her mind.


	7. Part Seven

****

Part Seven

Later that day, when both Emily and Grace are napping, Sydney picks up the phone to call her husband.

"Michael Vaughn's office," his secretary answers.

"Hi, Liz, it's Sydney. Is my husband in?" Sydney asks.

"You called at a good time, Sydney, he's between meetings. I'll put you through."

A moment later, Michael is on the line. "Hi, sweetie."

"Hi, baby. I won't keep you, I just wanted to let you know that Amanda can baby-sit on Friday, if you still want to go out with Jake and Heather."

"Should we be worried about Amanda's lack of social life? She's always available when we call."

"We pay her well, darling," Sydney reminds him. "I'm sure that's worth giving up a night of cruising or going to the movies or whatever sixteen-year-olds are doing these days."

"I doubt they're cruising or going to the movies, Syd. They're probably getting drunk and having sex."

"Oh, don't say that," Sydney sighs, settling herself into the rocking chair in Grace's room. "Our babies will be teenagers before we know it."

"How are our babies?"

Sydney groans. "See, you see them every day, you still ask. Dad sees them every few months, he doesn't."

"You spoke to your father? Did you tell him about the baby?"

Sydney can't help but smile. "Em answered the phone when he called, so she was the one to tell him, actually."

"Oh, no," Michael says with a laugh. "How did he react?"

"About how I expected," Sydney says, twirling a few strands of hair around her index finger. "As usual, he made it clear that I'm the biggest disappointment in the world to him. Heaven forbid that his only daughter is--" she gasps dramatically. "Just a housewife!"

"He could never do what you do," Michael assures her. "And if it makes you feel any better, I think all children are a major disappointment to their parents. Look at my mother. Her only son became a _lawyer_." He says the word as if it is something scandalous. "I moved her grandbabies to New _York_."

"But your mother is totally sweet," Sydney sighs. "My dad is--" she struggles to find the right word.

"Not?" Michael supplies.

Sydney bursts out laughing. "I haven't even told you the reason he called. He bought his plane ticket to come visit for Emily's birthday."

"He bought his ticket?" Michael sounds genuinely confused. "Syd, I told him at Christmas that I'd take care of the travel arrangements."

"You know how he is," Sydney says. "Look, baby, I'll let you get back to work. Will you be late tonight?"

"Everything's running smoothly so far, so I'm thinking no, but I'll call if anything changes."

"Okay. Don't forget to tell Jake about Friday."

"I won't. Bye, honey. I love you."

"Love you, too."

Sydney hangs up the phone with a smile on her face, then stands to gaze at her baby, sleeping in the crib. "Oh, Gracie," she whispers. "You're so precious. How can my dad not understand why I want to spend every single minute I can with you?"

__

"Michael asked the other day if I want to think about quitting my job when the baby is born."

"Well, that's not surprising."

She has been having conversations like the one she had with her father today for years, one of the most memorable being the one they'd had over lunch a few months before Jack was born.

__

"Why is it not surprising?"

"Well, Michael's a young man, just starting to enjoy real success, the kind of money he's only dreamed of. I'm sure it would be good for his ego, and his image, to have his pretty young wife not working."

"Bastard," Sydney whispers. She remembers sitting back in her chair, stunned, trying to process the comment. Michael had asked if she wanted to quit because he'd thought that staying home with their child might be something she would want to do. And if it made him feel good that he could support his family on his own, what was so wrong with that?

__

"I don't know if I told you," Sydney responded casually, as if the remark didn't sting. "We've decided to call the baby Jack. Jack William Vaughn."

That tripped him up for a minute. "I'm not sure if I've earned that honor."

"Oh, I'm sure you haven't," Sydney said coolly. "But it's a good name, a strong name, and we want our son to have it."

Sydney's father stared down at the table. "I'm not sure how strong I am, Sydney."

But he was, once. When Sydney was a little girl, she'd thought he was the strongest man in the world. But he'd been more than that. He'd been kind, compassionate. Wonderful. She'd called her son Jack because of what her father had been, and maybe could be again.

And because even after everything, he was still her father. And she still loved him.


	8. Part Eight

****

Part Eight

Sydney and Michael call his mother that night to tell her the news, and needless to say, she is ecstatic. She speaks to Michael first, then asks to speak to Sydney. Emily has already been put to bed but comes in to say she needs a glass of water, so Michael tends to her while Sydney speaks to her mother-in-law.

"Sydney, dear," Marguerite says. "You're a saint to bring four babies into this world."

"I don't feel like a saint, Marguerite," Sydney confesses, leaning against the refrigerator with a sigh. "I completely freaked when I found out."

"Well, that's understandable, darling," Marguerite says sympathetically. "Grace will just be old enough when he or she comes to be a real handful, and Emily will still be at home as well."

"I know," Sydney sighs, twirling a few strands of hair around her index finger. "I don't know if I'll be able to do it."

"Of course you will, darling," Marguerite says firmly. "Because you have to, and because you'll want to, because you'll love that baby so much you won't be able to imagine your family without him or her."

"I know," Sydney says again, but she knows her voice lacks conviction. "I just hate that we didn't plan it."

"Listen to me, Sydney," Marguerite says, her voice growing firmer as she speaks. "A baby coming into this world is a wonderful thing, no matter how or when it gets here. And this baby is especially lucky, because it has parents who love it and love each other and have the means to give it everything it wants or needs."

Sydney feels tears spring to her eyes. She'd known that, of course. She'd just needed to hear it. "You always know the right thing to say, Marguerite."

Marguerite laughs gaily. "Well, that's my job, dear. I'll let you go now, sweetheart. Make sure my son is good to you, hmm?"

Sydney returns her laugh. "I have a feeling he's going to pamper me until he drives me crazy."

"Let him," Marguerite advises. "Have a good evening, Sydney. I'll see you soon."

"Bye, Marguerite."

She hangs up the phone and heads upstairs. Michael has taken care of Emily and is in the bathroom, washing his face in preparation for bed. She walks up behind him and wraps her arms around his waist, kissing his shoulder through his undershirt. "You have an amazing mother," she tells him. "And she raised an amazing son."

Michael smiles, turning so he is facing her. "Thanks, Syd," he says, slipping his arms around her. "You're pretty amazing, too."

"No thanks to--" she stops short, shaking her head. "Maybe I'm too hard on my father. I know he's not a bad guy, he just sort of lost it when Mom died. I'm sure it must be--" her voice breaks. "You know, awful. To lose someone you love."  


He wraps his arms tighter around her, and she can't help but think of her nightmares, the ones where she and Michael aren't together. Most recently, she dreamt that she'd been missing for almost two years, and that he'd married another in her absence. She remembers feeling awful, alone, lost without him.

She knows that he has nightmares, too, though his are different from hers. He fears not being able to provide for her, take care of her and the kids, something she doesn't worry about. He loves her and takes care of her like she has never been loved and taken care of in her life.

And in her dreams, they are never apart because they don't love each other. Always because something awful keeps them from being together. And because she knows that their dream selves love each other as much as their real selves do, she has no doubt that they will find their way back to each other again.


	9. Part Nine

****

Part Nine

Michael wraps his arms around her from behind, planting a kiss on her neck. "I love you in that dress." It is Friday night, and they are preparing for their night out with Jake and Heather.

"Well, enjoy me in it now," Sydney says mournfully, checking out her reflection in the full-length mirror. "It won't fit for very long."

"I'd enjoy you more out of it," he says in that voice that drives her crazy.

"Now, Michael," she chides, turning in his arms so that she is facing him. "Don't go distracting me from how big I'm going to get."

"You'll be beautiful," he assures her, dipping low to kiss her stomach. "You're having our baby."

"God, I love you," she sighs, raking her fingers through his hair.

"I love you, too," he says, standing back up to kiss her. When they part, she lets her head fall onto his chest.

"Why do we always have to waste the nights we have a sitter with people we don't even like?" she murmurs.

"You don't like Jake and Heather?"

"Not enough to give up a night alone with you."

"Aw, Syd," he says, kissing the top of her head. He makes her feel so safe, so protected, and she would love nothing more than to spend the entire night wrapped up in his arms. "I'm sorry, baby. Next Friday, okay? We'll go out, just the two of us, have an amazing dinner."

"Get someone to keep the kids overnight," she suggests.

"I like the way you think," he says with a lecherous smile. They kiss once, passionately, and when they part, he moves so that he is standing behind her at the mirror, his arms around her waist, his head resting on her shoulder.

"I was wondering what this new baby will be like," Sydney muses. "And then I realized we don't even really know what Grace is like yet. I mean, we do," she corrects. "But--"

"I know what you mean," Michael interrupts. "We don't know her like we know Jack and Emily."

Sydney smiles. "What do you think she'll be like?"

Michael considers for a moment. "I think she'll be quiet and sweet, like Jack."

"And beautiful," Sydney sighs. "I can tell already that she's going to be so beautiful."

"Definitely," Michael agrees. "And she and our new little one will be great friends, I'll bet, since they'll be so close in age."

"Oh, I'll bet you're right," Sydney says delightedly.

"And I'll bet Sam will be a little wild man, and he'll instigate lots of little adventures for the two of them."

"Or Maggie," Sydney reminds him.

"Or Maggie," Michael agrees. "I have a feeling it's going to be Sam, though."

"I do, too, actually," Sydney admits.

Michael smiles. "It's probably a good thing, too. Just think about when they're teenagers. I think a wild boy will be easier on Daddy than a wild girl would be."

"Oh, I think Emily will cause you a few sleepless nights, too," Sydney predicts.

"I think you're right," Michael agrees. They both laugh.

Sydney opens her mouth to speak again, only to be interrupted by the sound of the ringing doorbell.

"Amanda," Sydney sighs. "Are we ready?"

"I think so."

Sydney takes his hand, not excited, especially, about the night they have in store for them, but absolutely giddy at the thought of all they have to look forward to in the years to come.


	10. Part Ten

****

Part Ten

Sydney, Michael, Jake, and Heather sit at the restaurant that night, chatting over coffee and dessert. Michael and Jake have fallen into a conversation about work, so Heather turns to Sydney.

"So," she says, her voice low. "Have you told many people about your new little one?"

Sydney shakes her head. She can hardly believe it has been less than a week since they learned the news. "We told the kids, of course--"

"I'll bet they're excited," Heather says, eyes brightening. 

"They've been very sweet about it," Sydney agrees with a smile. "We told them we're thinking of calling it Sam, if it's a boy, and Emily has taken to touching my stomach and saying hello, goodbye, and goodnight to Sam every time she says hello, goodbye, and goodnight to me."

"That's darling," Heather gushes. She lowers her voice, glancing at Jake to make sure he is deep in conversation before Michael before continuing. "I want a baby," she confesses. She is Jake's second wife; the two have been married about two years. "But Jake already has two, you know, from his previous marriage, and I've known since before we were married that he doesn't want more."

"Maybe he'll change his mind," Sydney suggests.

"I don't know," Heather says. "He's been talking about getting a vasectomy."

Sydney nearly spits out a mouthful of decaf.

"What?" Heather asks.

"Nothing, nothing," Sydney says, face turning bright red.

There is a moment of awkward silence before Heather brightly changes the subject. "So who else have you told?"

"Oh-- uh-- just our parents," Sydney says. "And you guys. And Emily's been telling everyone she speaks to, so I'm sure our baby-sitter, Amanda, knows by now. We haven't told our friends back in LA yet," she realizes. "You know," she thinks aloud. "It would be really nice to go back there for a weekend soon, while it's still safe for me to travel."

"I thought Jake said people were coming out soon, for one of the kids' birthdays, or something."

"Oh, just our parents," Sydney says. "It gets to be too much of a mess when we start inviting friends." She thinks of Eric and Kerri Weiss, and how they'd have to invite both of them and then hope one didn't show up, for fear of a scene. "Michael," she says, touching his arm gently.

"Hmm?" he asks, turning his attention away from Jake.

"We should go out to LA soon, while I can still travel."

"Okay," he agrees, giving her a quick kiss. "Let's talk about it more at home. Actually, are you about ready to go?"

"Sure, whenever you are."

Michael and Jake argue briefly over who will pick up the check, and within a few minutes they are outside of the restaurant, saying their goodbyes.

"I'll give you a call next week, Sydney," Heather says. "Maybe we can have lunch."

"Sure, that would be nice," Sydney says. It would be nice, she decides, to have some friends in New York. "I may have to bring a couple of little ones along, though."

"Oh, that's no problem, I love kids," Heather says, looping her arm through Jake's. "I want a baby, Jakie."

"We'll talk about it at home," Jake says, rolling his eyes at Michael in a way that vaguely irritates Sydney. "See you Monday, Mike. Goodnight, Sydney."

Michael and Sydney say goodbye, then start down the street in the opposite direction. "Why is Jake so against the idea of children?" Sydney asks, linking her arm through her husband's.

"How do you know that he is?"

"Heather says he's talking about getting a vasectomy."

"So are we."

"We already have three, almost four, Michael," Sydney says impatiently.

Michael sighs, running a hand back through his hair. "If you want to know the truth, Jake's not real big on responsibility, Syd. I think it's why his first marriage broke up. He's a great attorney, but I wouldn't be surprised at all one day if he pops in and says he's blowing town and buying a little place in the mountains where he can fish all day."

"We should do that someday," Sydney says dreamily.

"Do what?"

"Blow town," Sydney says, resting her head on his shoulder. "Maybe after the kids are grown up, and you're ready to retire, we can build, like, a hut on some little island."

"A hut, huh?" he repeats with a smile. "Do we even know how to build a hut?"

"Shut up," she says, giving him a playful shove. "Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

"It sounds great," he says with a smile. "But I always thought we'd do something more along the lines of buying a beach house somewhere, a big one where the kids can bring their families for Christmas."

"Christmas on the beach." They stop walking, and she plants a warm kiss on his lips.

"We should hail a cab," he suggests. "Get back to the train station and get home."

"Yeah," she says a bit regretfully. She is loving this, just walking and talking with him, but it will be nice to get him home to bed, too. "Love you, Michael."

"Love you, Syd."


	11. Part Eleven

****

Part Eleven

Sydney wakes the next morning to find Michael sitting at the end of the bed, lacing up a casual pair of brown leather shoes. A quick once-over shows that he is wearing a polo shirt and khakis-- standard attire for a Saturday at the office.

"You really have to go in today, baby?" she asks sleepily.

"Sorry, honey," he says apologetically, moving to her side to kiss her good morning. "Not for very long, I promise. Till noon or one."

"Okay," she sighs.

"It looks like it's going to be a beautiful day," Michael says. "Want to meet me in the city later? We could take the kids to the park."

Sydney brightens. "I can pack a picnic."

"Sounds great," Michael says, giving her another kiss. "Oh, and hey, I wanted to tell you. The more I think about the beach house idea, the more I like it."

"What, after you retire?" she asks, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Sooner than that," he says. "Why not just buy it, Syd? Have somewhere to go for a few weeks in the summer, Christmas, whenever."

"I don't know, Michael," she says skeptically. "A beach house sounds like the kind of thing people buy after their kids are away at college."

"Then the kids won't be able to enjoy it as much, though," he points out. "Think of the great summers we can have, baby."

She shakes her head with a smile. He's like this-- he gets an idea in his head, and that's it, they're doing it. "And where were you thinking of buying this little piece of paradise, darling?"

A goofy smile spreads over his face. "Jamaica."

Her eyebrows shoot practically to the ceiling. "Jamaica?"

"Yeah," he says excitedly. "I checked it out, and property there is less expensive than in Malibu or the Hamptons."

"You checked it out? Mike, we started talking about this last night, and it's--" she glances at the bedside clock. "Six o'clock in the morning."

"I couldn't sleep last night, so I got on the Internet," he shrugs.

"No wonder I was cold," she pouts.

"Oh, and if you still want to go to LA," he continues. "I checked on my schedule and flights and stuff, an we could leave next Friday. Did you want to take the kids?"

"I-- hadn't really thought about it," she says, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "Yeah, I guess. I'm sure everyone would like to see them."

"Fantastic, I'll book it, then," he says, practically hopping up from the bed.

"Michael?" she says warily.

"Yeah?"

"You're acting like you're on drugs."

"Nah," he says dismissively. "I'm just excited."

__

You're insane, is what you are, she thinks. Out loud, she says, "Just think on the beach house idea for awhile, okay? I think it's more of an investment and an undertaking than you're imagining it is. We'd have to pay someone to go in there and clean, take care of the lawn, we'd have to pick out furniture--"

"You love picking out furniture," he interrupts.

She rolls her eyes. "We haven't even started redoing the nursery yet."

He sits beside her on the bed, kissing her lightly. "I wasn't planning on making any offers or even going down and looking at places any time soon," he assures her. "It's just something I definitely think we should think about doing in the next few years."

"After the baby is born."

"After the baby is born," he agrees. "Unless we find something really great--"

She groans, flopping back down on the bed. "You're exhausting me, Michael."

"Go back to sleep, then," he says with a laugh. "I'll call later, okay, and let you know when I think I'll be done."

"Okay," she says, her face buried in a pillow.

He kisses the back of her neck. "Have a good morning, baby. I love you."

"Love you, Michael."

She waits a few moments after he's left to rise from be bed and throw on a robe over her pajamas and go to check on Grace. Her youngest daughter is still sleeping like an angel, so she heads to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee and see about picnic preparations and breakfast for Jack and Em-- they love it when she fixes pancakes on the weekends, but they won't be up for awhile.

She has no sooner located the picnic basket, though, when the phone rings. 

"Hello?"

"Syd, it's Kerri."

"Kerri?" Sydney repeats in disbelief. "What time is it over there?"

"It's super early, or late, or whatever you want to call it." Sydney frowns. Her friend is practically gushing. Before she has a chance to wonder what the hell has made everyone so excitable this morning, Kerri gushes, "I'm getting married, Sydney!"

Sydney nearly drops the phone. "Excuse me?"

"I'm getting married," Kerri gushes-- there is really no other word to describe what she is doing. "His name is Ben and he's a television producer and he's wonderful and he just ran out to get some groceries to make us breakfast so I'm calling you!"

"Kerri," Sydney says, more than a little taken aback. She realizes it's been more than a couple of months since she last spoke to her friend-- as she'd feared, the two of them hadn't really kept in touch since Kerri's last visit to New York. Still, this seems more than a little sudden. "This is--"

"Oh, he's pulling into the driveway, Syd, I have to go. Oh, hey, real quick, I didn't even get to ask what's new with you."

"I'm pregnant again," Sydney manages.

"You _are_? Hey, that's-- oh, I've really gotta go, Syd. I'll call you later, okay? Bye!"

She hangs up, leaving Sydney staring at the phone as if it were some mysterious foreign object. She finally shakes her head and hangs it up, wondering if everyone she knows has gone crazy. 


	12. Part Twelve

****

Part Twelve

(The Ben Strand Chapter)

Sydney isn't quite sure what to do after she hangs up with Kerri. She needs to talk to someone, but it is too early to think about calling her friends in LA. Eventually, she decides to call Michael.

"Hey, it's me," she says when he answers his cell.

"Hey, Syd," he says, surprise evident in his voice. "Is everything okay?"

"I just got the strangest call from Kerri Weiss, Michael," she tells him. "She's getting married."

"Kerri _Weiss_?" he repeats unbelievingly. "You're kidding! Did you even know she was seeing anyone?"

"No, I haven't talked to her for a few months," Sydney admits guiltily. "What about Eric? He hasn't said anything?"

"I haven't talked to him in awhile, either," Michael says. "What did she tell you about the guy she's marrying?"

"It was the most bizarre thing," Sydney responds, twisting the phone cord around her finger. "She calls and tells me in a rush that she's getting married and her fiance is out getting groceries, then he comes back and she practically hangs up on me."

"She probably would have been embarrassed for him to catch her spreading the word, like, seconds after he popped the question," Michael guesses.

"Probably," Sydney agrees. "Anyway, so all I found out about the whole thing is that she's marrying a wonderful TV producer named Ben."

"_Ben_?" Michael practically yelps. "She's marrying Ben Strand?"

"She didn't say his last name," Sydney says, bewildered. "What, so you know the guy?"

"Not well," Michael says. He's laughing now. "Eric had a crush on Kerri, like, forever, in college, but he couldn't ask her out for the longest time because she was dating this guy named Ben Strand. It was this big joke between Eric and me-- _I'll bet she'd go out with you if you were as good-looking as Ben Strand_. Or, like, if Eric did something stupid at a party, or whatever, it was, _Ben Strand would never do anything like that._ Even after they started going out, like, if Eric and Kerri were arguing over which movie to see, I'd say, _I'll bet Ben Strand would see whatever movie she wanted, Eric_."

"Sounds hilarious," Sydney says, rolling her eyes. "So whatever happened to Ben Strand?"

"Oh, he transferred to film school in New York, or something. He and Kerri tried to keep things going for awhile, but you know how long distance things go."

"Yeah," Sydney says, leaning against the refrigerator. "Especially when Eric Weiss is doing everything he can to move in on your woman."

"Ben Strand," Michael marvels. "I can't believe Kerri's marrying Ben Strand."

"Mike, we don't even know if it's _Ben Strand_ she's marrying."

"Oh, it is," Michael assures her. "How inappropriate would it be for me to call Eric and give him shit about his ex-wife marrying Ben Strand?"

"Extremely," Sydney says, rolling her eyes. "But I'm more than a little relieved that she's at least marrying someone she already knew, that she's not just jumping into a new marriage because she's afraid to be alone."

"What, you think Kerri would do that?"

"I don't know," Sydney sighs. "She wasn't in the best shape the last time we talked. I--" She is interrupted by the sound of Grace wailing over the baby monitor. "I've got to go, baby. Call me later?"

"Absolutely. Love you."

"Love you, too."

She hangs up and goes upstairs to take care of her baby. Michael's words put her a bit more at ease about Kerri's situation. She hopes that her friend will finally have some happiness.

God knows she deserves it.


	13. Part Thirteen

****

Part Thirteen

"I'm calling him," Michael declares that night. He has just finished brushing his teeth and washing his face; Sydney sits cross-legged on their bed.

"Michael, seriously," Sydney says, paging through a copy of _People_ magazine. "He probably doesn't even know about Kerri being engaged yet, I hardly--"

"He knows," Michael interrupts. "He tore her heart out and danced on it, Syd, you don't think she ran to the phone to gloat to him that she'd moved on?"

"Kerri's not like that," Sydney protests.

"Oh, come on, Syd," Michael says, dropping onto the bed next to her. "She called you, like, the second it happened. What the hell was that?"

"She was excited," Sydney frowns, letting her magazine fall to the floor. "And I'm her best friend."

"Her best friend who she's talked to a total of three times in the past year," Michael points out. "Once by accident, once when she wanted to apologize for being a total bitch and to cry about Eric, and once to gloat about getting engaged."

"That's a pretty picture you paint of her." Since when were _gloating _and _wanting to share your happy news with a friend_ the same thing?

"I'm just saying," Michael shrugs. "She knows that you were feeling sorry for her and thinking you were better than her, so--"

"I did not think I was better than her!"

Michael looks up at the ceiling as if trying to choose his words very carefully. "You know that's how she must see it, Syd," he says quietly. "And whether or not you consciously think that you're better than she is, you're damned happy not to be in her position, right?"

"I'm not in her position because I didn't marry a cheating asshole like Eric Weiss," Sydney mutters.

Michael just looks at her.

"What?"

Another look.

Sydney looks away. "I just acted like I was better than her, didn't I?"

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad, Syd," Michael says apologetically. "I'm just trying to make the case that if you know that she's getting married, Eric probably does too."

"Make the case," Sydney mutters. "I had to marry a lawyer, didn't I?"

He kisses her lightly. "I'm calling him," he says, climbing out of bed.

"Michael, don't--"

"I'm not going to give him shit about Ben Strand," Michael insists. A grin spreads over his face. "I won't even mention how Ben Strand is going to be married to his wife and raising his kids."

"It's not funny, Michael," Sydney scolds.

"Sure it is," Michael responds. "Now, if Kerri had actually dumped him for Ben Strand, _then_ it wouldn't be funny." He pauses and reconsiders. "Well, it'd be a little funny."

Sydney finally allows herself a laugh. It wasn't exactly _funny_ that Eric Weiss was experiencing what had to be his worst nightmare come true, but well…it served him right. "Call him."

"Thank you," Michael says, leaning over to kiss her. "Seriously, Syd. I'm just calling to feel out the situation. I won't mention Kerri marrying Ben Strand unless he does." He picks up the phone and dials.

"It's Saturday night, Mike, he's probably not even--"

"Eric!" Michael exclaims, shooting Sydney a triumphant look. "Hey, man. It's Mike…yeah, I know, I know…they're great, Eric. Jack is growing into quite the little hockey player, you should see him. I guarantee you he could kick your ass already."

Sydney rolls her eyes.

"Emily's just about the cutest thing you ever saw, and Grace is so beautiful. Getting bigger every day. How are yours?…Yeah?" Sydney watches Michael laugh, presumably at something one of Eric's sons had done. Eric and Kerri's kids were little wild men. "Syd's doing great…uh-huh…so what do you hear from Kerri?"

"Smooth, Mike," Sydney mutters.

"Yeah, I know," Michael says with a grin. Sydney can tell he has just been _waiting_ for Eric to say that Kerri was marrying Ben Strand so he could start in. "Ben Strand, man! Hey, I'm coming to LA next weekend, I might even get to meet him…hell yeah, man. Me, Syd, Kerri, and Ben Strand, hanging out. Who knows, I might even invite him to come visit us at our beach house."

"Michael," Sydney sighs. He can be such a child sometimes.

He offers her a quick glance and a smile before turning his attention back to Eric. "We're getting one, though…Jamaica, mon." His grin widens, and there is a long pause before he speaks again. "_Two_ hockey playing sons. Syd's pregnant again."

"It might not be a son, Mike," Sydney says, but she can't help but smile. He's just so adorably giddy.

"Our new little girl can be a hockey player," he tells her, mirth glinting in his eyes. The happy expression doesn't last long. "Hey, look, Eric," he says, suddenly serious. Eric has apparently tired of his shit. "The trick is not wanting more once you have it all." He perches on the edge of the bed. "Okay, at least, not wanting more that conflicts that you already have." His handsome face contorts into a stormy expression. "Hey, Weiss. Just because you need some twenty-five-year-old piece of ass to make you feel like a man-- well, so is Kerri," Michael says angrily. "She's one of the best there is, and you fucked up."

Sydney watches Michael's expression as he listens to Eric's response. It seems to grow calmer for a moment. "I don't know, Eric. I don't think Syd would want to do that."

"Want to do what?"

Michael covers the receiver with his hand. "Go out to dinner with him and Shawna."

Sydney gives him a look of utter disgust.

"No, she doesn't want to," Michael tells Eric. His own expression grows disgusted. "You're being a complete ass, do you know that? Don't-- maybe. We'll see." A pause. "Fuck you." He hangs up the phone and throws it across the room. It hits the wall and the cordless phone's battery falls off.

"What the hell was that?" Sydney demands, eyes wide.

Michael shakes his head, climbing into bed beside her.

"You were right. I shouldn't have called him."


	14. Part Fourteen

****

Part Fourteen

Sydney wakes in the middle of the night and moves to snuggle closer to Michael. He's not there. She sits up drowsily, wondering if he's made a foray down to the computer in his office to check if any dream properties have shown up in Jamaica over the course of the last day. He hasn't. He stands at the window, staring out blankly into the darkness.

She'd asked what he and Eric had argued about that had gotten him so upset, but he'd said that he didn't want to talk about it, that he just wanted to go to sleep. She'd bit her lip as she'd felt him thrashing restlessly in the bed beside her. Eventually, sheer exhaustion had gotten the better of her-- chasing Jack and Em around Central Park is enough to wear out anyone-- and she'd drifted off; it is only now that she realizes that Michael hasn't slept a wink.

She creeps silently out of bed, moving to stand behind him. She wraps her arms around him from behind, slipping her hands under the front of his t-shirt to feel the hard, muscled flesh there. Even now, when she knows he is upset, she can't help but admire how beautiful he is, how lucky she is that he's hers. She kisses his shoulder through the fabric of his t-shirt.

It takes a moment for him to acknowledge her presence, and when he speaks, he doesn't say what she expects. "Do you know how happy I wake up most mornings, Sydney?"

She doesn't answer. Doesn't think he really wants her to.

"The first thing I see when I wake up every morning is this beautiful, sexy, wonderful woman who for some reason has agreed to wake up next to me every morning for the rest of my life, and she usually wakes up when I'm getting dressed and kind of drowsily asks me if I'm going to be late that night and tells me her plans for the day."

Sydney wraps her arms tighter around him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

"Then-- and I don't know if you know that I do this-- I go and peek in on our babies. Jack's always somehow managed to make his way to the opposite end of the bed, his covers flung everywhere. I go in and cover him back up, and he always says, _Thanks, Dad_, without opening his eyes, and I'll bet if you asked him later in the day if he remembers me doing that, he wouldn't."

Sydney closes her eyes, transfixed by his words, the sound of his voice.

"Emmy, for all of her running around and crazy behavior during the day, is always sleeping like an angel, her covers pulled up to her chin. I'll bet all you have to do to make her bed is smooth out the blankets."

Sydney continues to listen silently, thinking that she has never loved anyone so much as she loves this man, right now, describing the way he checks up on their children in the morning.

"Grace is usually still sleeping when I check on her, too, but she always opens her eyes, just for a few seconds, when I stand over her crib, as if she knows I'm there, and she knows who I am."

"Of course she does," Sydney whispers. "She loves her daddy."

It is the first time she has spoken since approaching her husband, and he smiles at her over his shoulder. "Come here, baby."

She extracts her arms from beneath his t-shirt and he turns to face her, kissing her once, gently, before they switch positions, her in front of him, him with his arms around her waist. "Tell me about the rest of your day," she says.

"It's usually pretty great, too," he confesses. "I get to work every day at a job I enjoy, a job that allows me to provide for my family in a way I never even dreamed possible, and when I'm done, I go home to a sweet little girl who runs to greet me, and a serious, smart little boy, and a beautiful little baby, and their wonderful mother, who has been home chasing them around all day but still manages a smile and a kiss for me."

She turns to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. "Sounds like you're a very lucky man."

"I am," he confirms, returning her kiss. "And don't get me wrong, Syd, things are hardly perfect, I worry about all of you so much, but-- how could anyone not want my life? Or at least, how could anyone not understand why I love it?"

"Eric said something," she realizes.

"Eric is an ass," he says firmly, moving away from her and sagging down on the bed. "I know I haven't said much about his breakup with Kerri, Syd, because he's my friend and I didn't want to judge him, but God-- how could he do that? If he wanted to spend his life proving to the world that he can get pretty young twenty-something women to fuck him, fine, but why did he get married? Why did he pretend that what he wanted was a wife and a family?"

"Maybe he didn't know what he wanted," Sydney says quietly, folding her arms in front of her. "Maybe he did love Kerri, or believed he did, but he let all the money and attention go to his head."

"He doesn't even seem sorry, though," Michael shakes his head. "He acts like he's got it made, and that the only reason anyone would let themselves be trapped-- that's his word, not mine-- in a marriage is because they can't attract other women or because they've let their wife turn them into some kind of slave, or something."

"He's probably having second thoughts about what he did," Sydney says with a sigh, running her hand back through her hair. "And if he can talk himself into believing that someone like you, who is living the kind of life he left, is unhappy, or envious of him, then he can make himself feel better about what he's done. His worst fear is probably that he's made a mistake, and when you call all giddy about your children and your wife--"

"Then he knows that he did," Michael completes. "Good. I hope he's sorry as hell for what he did, and I hope Kerri marries Ben Strand and lives happily ever after."

Sydney bites her lower lip, looking away. "Now it seems like you want him to be unhappy to prove to yourself that everyone who turns their back on the kind of life you live is miserable. You can't worry about what Eric or anyone else needs to be happy, Mike. If you're happy with me and the kinds, and it sounded a minute ago like you are--"

"I am!" he interrupts. 

They stand there in tense silence for a moment, then his expression softens. "Come here, sweetheart."

She moves to sit next to him on the bed. He puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her to him. "Come on, baby," he whispers in her ear. "You can't tell me you don't hope to see Eric suffer for what he's done."

"Suffering is too good for Eric Weiss," she snaps. She pauses, considering her words. "And yes, part of that is probably for my own piece of mind, my own hope that anyone who does what he did will pay dearly. But mostly I just hate that he made Kerri so miserable."

"She's better off without him," Michael says comfortingly.

"I know," Sydney sighs, snuggling closer to him. "I hope she and Ben Strand are very happy."

"We'll find out soon enough," Michael reminds her. "We'll be in LA in less than a week. Syd, you've got to call her and get us invited to dinner with them."

"This fixation you have with Ben Strand is very strange," Sydney laughs.

"It's just too hilarious that that's who she's marrying," Michael responds, returning her laugh. "Seriously, Syd, if you knew the amount of shit I gave Eric about Ben Strand back in the day. Kerri dating Ben Strand makes me seriously feel like I'm back in college."

"Well, I'm curious about him, myself," Sydney admits. "I'll definitely call her." She climbs back under the covers, and Michael follows. "What do you want to do tomorrow, baby?"

"I don't know, I kind of just want to spend a quiet day at home," he says. "Watch TV and shoot hoops with Jack and maybe take the kids out for a pizza in the evening."

"Sounds good," Sydney agrees. "While you're keeping Jack occupied, though, I might take Em and maybe Grace and do some shopping, though, Em needs some new spring clothes, I swear she grows out of things as soon as I can get them home from the store."

"Oh, hey, maybe Jack and I'll go with you," Michael says, eyes growing wide with anticipation. "There are these basketball shoes I saw on TV the other day, and--"

"For you or Jack?" Sydney interrupts.

"Me," Michael admits sheepishly. "But I'm sure we can find something Jack likes, too."

"You're such a child," she tells him, but she softens the remark with a kiss. "Goodnight, Michael."

"Goodnight, Syd."

"Say goodnight to Sam," she instructs, slipping the covers down to give him easy access to her stomach.

"Or Maggie," he reminds her.

"Or Maggie," she agrees.

He lowers himself to kiss her stomach. "Goodnight, Sam or Maggie," he says. "Daddy loves you."

"I love you, Michael," Sydney sighs, raking her fingers through his hair.

"I love you, too, Syd," he says, moving back up to her eye level and kissing her. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, baby." She kisses him one more time, then rolls over on her side so he can spoon up against her.

Maybe not everyone would want their life. But she wouldn't trade it for anything.


	15. Part Fifteen

****

Part Fifteen

The phone starts ringing at roughly the same time Gracie starts wailing through her baby monitor the next morning, and Sydney and Michael exchange glances.

"You get the phone, I'll get Grace," Michael says.

"What if it's for you?" Sydney asks.

"Tell them I'll call them back." Michael kisses her quickly before throwing on a t-shirt and boxers and rushing out of the room. Sydney reaches for the phone.

"Hello?"

"Syd? It's Kerri."

"Kerri!" Sydney exclaims, pulling the sheets up under her arms. "I'm so glad you called, you have to tell me about Ben. He's not there right now, is he?"

"No, Eric brought the boys back, so I thought he shouldn't sleep here tonight," Kerri says. "I'd just feel weird about having a man I'm not married to spend the night with kids in the house."

"I seriously don't think it matters," Sydney says without thinking. "I really doubt Eric hides his relationship with Shawna from them."

There is a moment of awkward silence before Sydney speaks again.

"Ker, I'm sor--"

"No, no, don't be, I don't care what Eric does," Kerri says hastily. "Although I did take no small amount of pleasure calling to tell him that I'm getting married."

"Yeah, so I hear."

"What does that mean?" Kerri asks. "Oh my gosh, did Eric call up Mike and tell him he was upset?"

Sydney thinks Kerri sounds entirely too hopeful about the idea. "Not exactly. Mike called him just to-- well, he didn't really have a good reason to call. To feel out whether Eric knew about you getting married, and to see how he felt about it." And to give him shit about Ben Strand, of course, but Sydney figured Kerri didn't need to know that.

"What did Eric say?"

Sydney sighs. "The conversation didn't end well, Ker. Mike didn't tell me what exactly was said, but I get the impression that Eric got a bit defensive about the whole thing."

"What, like do you think he regrets leaving me?"

Sydney frowns. "What do you care, Kerri?" she asks. "You're marrying Ben."

"Oh, I know," Kerri says hastily. "It would just be nice, you know, if Eric at least felt bad about what he did."

"Kerri, you're--" Sydney stops herself before she finishes the sentence: _Kerri, you're not using Ben to make Eric jealous, are you?_

"I'm what, Sydney?"

Sydney bites her lower lip. Conversations with Kerri can devolve into rather nasty arguments, especially as of late, so she figures she'd better tread carefully. "I just hope you're marrying Ben for the right reasons."

"Sydney, of course I am!" Kerri assures her. "I've known Ben for years, did you know that? We dated in college."

"You broke up in college," Sydney points out.

"Only because he was moving to New York," Kerri responds. "God, I wish we'd tried harder to make things work. I could've saved myself years of heartache."

"Don't say that," Sydney says. "You have three wonderful children with Eric, and the two of you had some great times together." Except-- when a marriage ended badly, did all of the good times suddenly become meaningless? Sydney wasn't sure, and she was glad she'd never have to find out firsthand.

"Yeah," Kerri says. "You're right, I mean, I wouldn't trade the boys for anything. But Sydney, I really do love Ben, and I really do think this is the best thing. Aren't you happy for me?"

Sydney sighs. "If you're happy, Kerri, of course I'm happy for you."

"Good," Kerri says, voice full of relief. "I'd hate it if I couldn't share this with you."

"Of course you can share this with me," Sydney assures her. "In fact, I even want to meet Ben. Mike and I are coming to LA this coming weekend, Ker."

"Really?" Kerri sounds delighted. "How come? Does Mike have meetings, or something?"

"Nah, we just wanted to come see everyone while it's still okay for me to travel."

"What do you mean, while-- oh my gosh, Sydney, the baby!" Kerri practically screeches. "You must think I'm awful, going on and on about myself without even asking you about the baby!"

"No, it's okay," Sydney rolls her eyes. "I'm constantly pregnant, what's there to ask?"

"Lots," Kerri laughs. "When's it due, Syd? Did you plan this?"

"God, no, we didn't plan it," Sydney responds. "And we're expecting little Sam or Maggie in mid-November."

"When's Grace's birthday? October third, right?"

"Yes," Sydney sighs. "Don't remind me. I'll be running myself ragged, chasing around a one-year-old with a baby on my hip."

"You'll do fine," Kerri assures her. "What's Mike think of the whole thing?"

"He's ecstatic, of course," Sydney says dryly. "You know how men are."

"No, I know how Eric is, and I think there's a distinction," Kerri corrects.

"You know Ben, too," Sydney reminds her. "Oh my gosh, Ker, you haven't told me. Does he have children of his own? Are the two of you going to want to have more?"

"He has a daughter, Megan. She's fourteen, she's very sweet. Her mother, Ben's first wife, died giving birth."

"Oh, Ker, that's awful," Sydney says. 

"Yeah, Ben loved her a lot. I don't think he ever really got over it," Kerri says sadly. "But he's great with Megan, they get along really great, and my boys like her a lot. Plus, she has an aunt here in LA that she's really close to, she spends a lot of time with her."

There is a pause before Kerri speaks again.

"And no, Syd, we're not going to have more. You're still young, but God, I'm going to be forty soon."

"That's hardly ancient," Syd says with a smile.

"It feels ancient," Kerri responds. "Especially to be starting all over again."

Another pause.

"Look, Syd, I'm tired. I'm going to go back to bed."

"You call me at the oddest hours now," Sydney observes. "What time even is it there?"

"I couldn't sleep, I had a lot on my mind," Kerri confesses. "But, hey, call me later this week so we can make plans for when you're in LA, okay? You and Mike could bring the kids over, we can all have dinner, you can meet Ben and see the boys. You're bringing the kids, right?"

"Yes," Sydney confirms. "That sounds great, Ker. Talk to you soon?"

"Absolutely. Bye, Syd."

"Bye, Kerri." 


	16. Part Sixteen

****

Part Sixteen

It is Thursday afternoon before Sydney picks up the phone to tell her father they will be in town for the weekend. They have already made arrangements for where they will be staying (a hotel-- Marguerite moved out of Michael's childhood home and into a very nice but small apartment years ago, so she doesn't have room to put them up, and staying with any of their friends seems like asking for trouble) and how they will be spending the majority of their time (lunch with Will and Francie on Saturday, dinner with Kerri and Ben, and Sunday afternoon at Marguerite's), but she thinks she should at least let him know she'll be around. 

"Jack Bristow," he says when he picks up his phone.

"Hi, Dad." Irrationally, she feels like she should add _it's Sydney_, even though she's her father's only child, and what parent can't tell their childrens' voices apart, anyway?

"Sydney," her father says, surprise in his voice. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Dad," Sydney says, finding it sad that her father immediately assumes something must be wrong if she's calling. "I just wanted to tell you that Michael and the children and I will be in town for the weekend. Michael is planning to stop by his old law firm tomorrow afternoon for a visit, so I thought that might be a good time to bring the kids by for a visit."

"I--" Her father seems rather taken aback by the suggestion. "This is a surprise, Sydney. Was the trip a last minute decision?"

"Sort of," Sydney hedges, not wanting to tell him that they've been planning it for almost a week. "I mentioned to Michael that I wanted to fly back for a visit before I was too far along with my pregnancy, and it turned out his schedule for this weekend was pretty free, so we're coming."

"Oh. And you wanted to visit tomorrow?"

"If you're free." Sydney hates that she feels so nervous doing such a small thing as asking her father if he has time for a visit, but she does.

The long pause that follows her words doesn't make her feel any better. "Well, you know I normally work on Fridays, Sydney--"

"If you don't have time, it's fine--"

"But I think they can spare me for an afternoon," he finishes. "Do you want to stop by the house?"

Sydney smiles slightly. "Sure, Dad."

"Maybe Mike can stop by after he's done at the firm," her father adds in a rush, as if he's nervous to get the words out. "I could make dinner, or we could order in. If you don't already have plans, I mean."

"That-- that sounds nice," Sydney says, fairly shocked by the offer. "So-- our flight gets into LA at ten a.m., I think, and we'll want some time to go to the hotel to rest and freshen up, but would it be okay if I brought the kids over around two?"

"Sure, Sydney. I'll see you then."

He hangs up, and Sydney stares at the phone until a beeping sound reminds her that she needs to hang up, too.

"What's wrong, Mommy?" Emily asks, wandering into the kitchen. She's rubbing her eyes sleepily; Sydney had been planning to wake her after the phone call so they could go pick up Jack from school.

"Nothing's-- nothing's wrong, sweetheart," Sydney manages. "We're going to see your grandpa tomorrow."

"Yaay!"

Sydney wishes she felt as excited.


	17. Part Seventeen

****

Part Seventeen

Sydney's hands are shaking as she pulls the rental car up to her father's house the next day. She has just dropped Michael off at the law firm; he'd given her a kiss and a "Are you sure you don't want to just hang out with me this afternoon, baby?" before she'd pulled away. Though she'd assured him that she'd be fine, it is only now that she realizes that it has been awhile since she's faced her father without Michael by her side. She's more than a little nervous.

He has made his way out to his front walk by the time they have gotten out of the car, and Emily runs for him, crying "Grampy!" as she throws her arms around his legs.

"Hello, sweetheart," he says, clearly taken aback.

"Hi, Grampy!" she chirps.

"Hi, Grandpa," Jack adds. He hugs his grandfather, too, albeit a little less enthusiastically.

"You've got to come say hi to Sam, Grampy!" Emily exclaims, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

"Sam?"

"The baby in Mommy's tummy!"

"Give your grandfather some breathing room, darling." Sydney can't think of anything that would be more awkward than having her father place his hand on her stomach and greet Sam.

"You can't tell Sam is in there, because he's too little to kick or make Mommy's tummy much bigger," Emily tells her grandfather seriously. "But Mommy knows 'cause she went to the doctor and we know 'cause Mommy told us."

The bewildered expression on her father's face is almost enough to make Sydney laugh. "She asks a lot of questions," she offers by way of explanation.

"That's good, sweetheart," he says, looking down at his oldest granddaughter. "That's how you learn things."

Emily nods. "So someday when I get big and have a baby, I'll know! Mommy wouldn't let Daddy tell me how the baby got in her tummy, though."

"You have plenty of time to learn that, princess." Sydney's father is actually smiling now, and she feels a rush of relief. Maybe this afternoon will actually be bearable after all.

"Look at Gracie, Grampy," Emily instructs. Gracie is in her baby seat, which sits on the hood of the car as Sydney busies herself gathering up the baby bag and playpen. "Doesn't she look pretty? I picked out her dress."

"She did," Sydney says with a smile, balancing the baby bag and her purse on one shoulder as she picks up the baby seat with the other hand. "We went shopping the other day, and Emily thought Grace should have that dress. She even found something for little Sam or Maggie, didn't you, angel?"

"Maggie?" 

"If the baby is a girl. Dad, could you grab Grace's playpen for me?"

"Of course, Sydney." Her father has been standing there as if in a daze-- Sydney supposes her family is enough to overwhelm anyone-- but now he shakes his head as if to clear it. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, let me take your purse and bag, too, you have enough to handle with Grace."

"Thank you."

They finally make their way into the house, and Sydney asks if there is somewhere she can set up the playpen.

"In the living room, Sydney," her father instructs. He turns his attention to Jack and Emily. "And there are popsicles for the two of you, if you promise to eat them in the kitchen."

"We will!" they chorus. He ushers the two of them into the kitchen as Sydney begins setting up the playpen. He is alone when he returns a moment later.

"Do you need help?"

"No, thanks, I think I've got it," Sydney says, lifting Grace from her seat and laying her down gently. "You need a nap, don't you, angel? You've had a busy day, and you've just been too excited to get much sleep, haven't you?"

"Did she scream the whole flight?" he asks with a frown.

"She hated takeoff and landing, just like she did when we came out here for Christmas," Sydney tells him. "Then she settled down and actually did get some sleep, but you know how traveling can tire anyone out." As if to illustrate her point, Grace's eyes flutter shut.

"She really is a beautiful child, Sydney," her father tells her. "Exceptionally beautiful."

"Thank you," Sydney says with a smile.

"Why don't we sit down? Would you like a glass of iced tea? I made a pitcher of decaf."

"No, thanks, Dad, I'm fine." Sydney is a bit startled as he moves to sit on the couch. "You don't want to go sit in the kitchen, with the kids?"

"In a minute. Why don't we talk a little first, catch up?"

"Ooookay," Sydney says slowly. Her father has never been much for conversation. Maybe he really is trying. She sits gingerly on the edge of the couch.

"Emily must run you ragged," her father observes.

"She certainly keeps things interesting," Sydney agrees with a smile. "Michael gets such a kick out of her."

"Of course he does," her father responds. "He doesn't have to chase her around all day."

Sydney winces. Well, they'd had, what, five, ten minutes of civil conversation? Expecting any more would have been pushing it. "Don't start, Dad."

"I won't, I'm sorry." A pause, and then-- "Something Emily said, though--"

Sydney sighs. "What, Dad? Whatever you're thinking, just say it."

"Well, out front she said, _when I get big and have a baby_. She knows that she doesn't have to ever have a baby, doesn't she? And that even if she does have one, she can still do other things?"

Sydney wants to scream. "When we went to the museum a couple of months ago, Dad, she said she wanted to be 'one of those people who digs up dinosaur bones,' and yesterday she watched some movie and said she wanted to be a surfer, so yes, I think she pretty much knows the possibilities are endless."

"Good." Another moment of silence. "It's just that I can tell she's a very smart girl, Sydney, and I'd hate to see--"

"Hate to see what? Hate to see her end up like her mother?" Sydney snaps.

Her father lowers his head. "I didn't say that, Sydney. You seem happy, so--"

"I _am _happy."

"Okay," he says in that infuriating tone, the one that means, _I don't believe you, but I'm not going to argue._ Then, "I'm just afraid that you're confusing Michael's happiness with your own."

"Oh, what the hell does that even mean?" Sydney's hands have clenched themselves into fists, as if she is ready for a fight.

Her father sighs. "He has everything he's ever wanted in life, Sydney, so of course he's happy, and you're happy for him. But where does that leave you?"

"You know, you are seriously messed up if you think that having someone who loves you isn't the most important thing a person needs to be happy."

Her father just stares at her.

"Michael knows that, he has his priorities in line," Sydney says, tears flooding her eyes. "He woke up on a Saturday morning a couple of months ago _thrilled_ that the pond had frozen over, because that meant that he got to spend the whole day outside playing hockey with his kids. He didn't even give a thought to how he usually goes into the office on Saturday morning, and do you know why? Because it wasn't the most important thing."

Her father looks away, but not before she sees the bitterness, the defensiveness in his eyes. 

"He let his colleagues clean up a mess at work Valentine's Day weekend because he had plans to take me to Jamaica. And it's not that I wouldn't have understood if he'd cancelled the trip, or that Jack would have even known the difference if he'd gone into work instead of playing hockey with him. But we come first, we always come first."

"And you didn't with me," her father counters. "That's what you're getting at, right? That's the point you're trying to make by telling me all about how your husband hung the moon?"

"I don't know what point I'm trying to make," Sydney confesses. "You just act like Michael goes off and does whatever he wants and leaves me to do the dirty work with no consideration for what I want, and that's not, true, Dad. I wish you could see how much he cares about me and the little ones. I do, because it comes through in everything he does, in the little things. And I hate that you don't even seem to see the difference in being the kind of person that puts his family first when it's really important, when it's life or death, and the kind of person that puts his family first all the time."

"I see the difference, and I know what kind of father I was," her father says, his words clipped. "I wasn't the kind of father who spent time with you just for the hell of it. Hell, I wasn't even the kind of father that made a point to get to your dance recitals and track meets. I was the kind of father you could count on if you got a broken arm or needed me to write a check for school clothes, and that's about it. I know that, Sydney, and I wish things were different, but I can't change the way I was."

"You can change the way you _are_," Sydney insists. "You can stop second-guessing every choice I make because it's not the choice you would have made for me."

Her father shakes his head. "Just wait, Sydney. You're a parent. You won't admit it now, but you have all sorts of hopes and expectations for your children. See how you feel when their lives take completely different paths."

Sydney wants to tell him that maybe she'd have done a better job of living up to his expectations if he'd ever let her know what those expectations were, or that he even had any. She wants to explain why she has made the choices she's made, wants to make him understand. She knows that doing any of those things would be futile. So instead she just says something she knows he can't misinterpret.

"I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment to you."


	18. Part Eighteen

****

Part Eighteen  
  
Sydney's father stares at her. "You're not a disappointment, Sydney."  
  
"Really?" she says, rising from the couch. "Then I'd hate to see how you'd treat me if I was."  
  
"Sydney--"  
  
"Where did you put my purse and Grace's diaper bag?" Sydney interrupts.  
  
Her father looks baffled. "Why?"  
  
"Because I suddenly remembered that there are a few people I'd like to say hello to over at Michael's firm," she says, proud of the coolness in her voice. She's done caring what her father thinks, done trying. This little visit has proved to her that doing so causes nothing but heartache and hurt feelings, and she's finished. "Some of them haven't seen Gracie yet, I want to show her off."  
  
"You're leaving?"  
  
"As soon as you direct me to my purse and the diaper bag and I say goodbye to Jack and Emily," Sydney responds. "They've been looking forward to seeing you, so I'll let them stay for a few hours. Michael and I will be back for them later."  
  
"Sydney--"  
  
"And I'd like to freshen up before I go," Sydney continues as if he hadn't spoken. "I'm sure you don't mind if I use your bathroom."  
  
"Of course not," her father says, bitterness creeping into his voice. "Though freshening up isn't really necessary. You look flawless."  
  
"Good," Sydney says crisply. "Since I've devoted my life to being Michael's perfect little trophy, I might as well look the part, don't you think?"  
  
"You're behaving like a spoiled child."  
  
"I'm sorry you think so, though I can't say that your opinion matters much to me at the moment." With that, Sydney spins on her heel and heads for the kitchen, where Jack and Emily sit at the table finishing up their Popsicles. Emily, of course, has managed to get the majority of hers all over her face and hands, though she has miraculously avoided dirtying her shirt. "Emily, darling, you're a mess."  
  
"I'm sorry, Mommy."  
  
Sydney strides to the kitchen sink and wets a rag, then moves to the table and goes to work on her sticky daughter. "Jack, Emily, Mommy's going to take Gracie and go visit Daddy. We'll be back to pick you up in a little while, okay?"  
  
"Is everything okay, Mom?" Jack asks with a concerned frown.  
  
"Everything's fine, sweetheart," Sydney says, brushing his hair back fondly.  
  
"I want to go visit Daddy, too," Emily says with a petulant frown.  
  
"Don't you want to stay here with your Grampy?"  
  
"It'll be fun, sweetheart," Sydney turns to see that her father has appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. "We can go to the park."  
  
"You're staying with me, right, Jackie?" Emily asks, turning to her brother.   
  
"Sure," Jack says with a shrug.  
  
"And Sydney, should I still expect you and Michael for dinner?"  
  
It is a dirty trick, asking her in front of the children, but Sydney thinks she does an admirable job keeping herself together. "I don't think so, Dad."  
  
"I would really like it if you and Michael came to dinner," he says firmly.  
  
Sydney ignores him and turns to the children. "Be good for your grandfather, okay, darlings?"  
  
"Okay." They take turns hugging her goodbye before she strides back to the living room to collect Grace.  
  
"Do you make a habit of walking away from people when they're talking to you?" her father demands, following her into the room.  
  
"It was extremely inappropriate for you to ask me to dinner in front of them," she responds, lifting Gracie carefully out of the playpen. She stirs but doesn't make a sound. "Oh, you're such a good little angel," Sydney whispers.  
  
"I didn't realize that a father asking his daughter to dinner was such a heated issue."  
  
"Yeah, well, it shouldn't be, but with us, it kind of is," Sydney tells him, settling Grace into her baby seat.  
  
"Sydney, I tried here today."  
  
"You made a pitcher of iced tea and bought a box of Popsicles," Sydney snaps. "Congratulations, you're not completely inadequate as a host."  
  
"I--" Sydney's father takes a deep breath. "I would really like you and Michael to come to dinner. Please."  
  
"You've made your feelings about Michael abundantly clear, and I don't know if he would feel welcome here," Sydney says. "I know that I don't."  
  
"Sydney--"  
  
"I would like you to get my purse and the diaper bag for me," Sydney says firmly. "Please."  
  
Her father stares at her for a long moment, then leaves the room, returning a moment later with the requested items. "I'll help you to the car."  
  
"That's not necessary." Sydney takes a few moments balancing the purse and diaper bag over one shoulder, taking the baby seat with the other hand.  
  
Her father tries one last time before she walks out the door. "I wish you'd reconsider about dinner," he says. "I don't think I'll get much cooking done with the little ones here, but I could order in Chinese. Do you still like sesame chicken?"  
  
"I stopped eating meat when I was nineteen, and the kids hate Chinese," Sydney replies. "Goodbye, Dad."  
  
She manages to keep the cool facade up as she buckles Gracie into the car, as she tosses the purse and diaper bag into the backseat, as she gets herself settled and drives away.   
  
She waits until she is out of view to pull her car to the side of the road and cry.   
  



	19. Part Nineteen

****

Part Nineteen

Sydney allows herself to blubber for a few minutes, then takes a deep breath. "Get it together, Syd," she whispers. She looks over at Grace, who has woken and is regarding her curiously. Sydney manages a smile for her little girl, then pulls down the visor to check out her reflection. "Yikes," she says, almost laughing at what she sees. "I'll make a pretty picture for your daddy, won't I, Gracie?" Her mascara runs down her cheeks in rivulets, and her eyes are red and puffy. "Baby wipes," she tells her daughter. "Makeup and baby wipes, that's what Mommy needs."

She washes her face with baby wipes, then goes to work reapplying her makeup. Within a few minutes, she looks almost passable; hopefully, by the time she gets to the firm, she won't look like she's just been crying.

"Sydney, hi," the secretary of Terry Kendall, one of the senior partners at the firm, greets her a few minutes later. "This is a surprise."

"Hi, Theresa," Sydney says with a sweet smile. "I couldn't come to LA without stopping by."

"Well, I'm glad you did. This must be the newest little Vaughn." Theresa rises from her desk to crouch down and look at Grace, who Sydney has settled into her stroller.

"Grace. Grace Camille Vaughn," Sydney tells her.

"What a beautiful name. She's darling, Sydney," Theresa gushes. "And I love her little dress. What a gorgeous shade of lavender."

"I'll tell Emily you said so, she picked it out," Sydney says with a smile. "So, have you seen my husband anywhere?"

"Oh, sure, he's in talking to Mr. Kendall. Go on in," Theresa says, waving her hand airily.

"Oh, I don't want to intrude, I'll just sit here and wait, if you don't mind."

"Let me at least buzz them and tell them you're here, I'm sure Mr. Kendall would love to see you and the baby." She does so before Sydney can protest. "Mr. Kendall insists you go right in," she says with a smile a moment later.

"Sydney!" Mr. Kendall exclaims when Sydney enters the office. "And little Grace. Glad you decided to stop by."

"Hi, Terry," Sydney says with a warm smile, reaching out to shake his hand. Terry Kendall had given Michael his first job out of law school, had been something of a mentor to him; he'd sent him off to the firm in New York with his encouragement. Sydney and Michael owed him a lot. "Hi, honey," she adds, giving Michael a quick kiss.

"Sweetie, I thought you were going to spend the afternoon at your father's," he says, brow knitted in concern.

"I thought it would do him good to spend some time alone with Jack and Emily." She keeps her tone light but shoots him a furtive look that plainly says, _We'll talk about it later._

"Well, we're glad you stopped by," Terry says with a smile. "Please, sit down."

Sydney disengages Grace from her stroller and takes the seat Terry offers her, settling Grace onto her lap.

"Well, Michael's been full of good news," Terry continues. "A new baby and a house in Jamaica, huh?"

"Yes to the baby, maybe to Jamaica," Sydney says, shooting a smile at Michael. "I haven't even started decorating the nursery yet, I think one project at a time is enough."

"You could always hire a decorator," Terry suggests.

"Bite your tongue," Sydney says, horrified.

"The house is Syd's territory, Terry," Michael says, shooting Sydney a wink. "No one so much as moves a chair without asking her permission."

Terry frowns. "You didn't hire someone to do your house here in LA?"

"No," Sydney says proudly, remembering fondly the weekends they'd spent looking for furniture, the nights she'd spent poring over paint, wallpaper, and carpet samples. Part of her compulsion, she supposes, to do everything herself, but moving out of their rented apartment and having a whole house to do whatever they wanted with had been so much fun. And she'd done a great job-- their house had even been photographed for the Life section of a couple of papers.

Terry shakes his head. "Georgia was just saying she was going to call you to get the name of your decorator, Sydney, she's redoing the guest bedroom. If you were still in LA, I'll bet she'd hire you."

"I'm no decorator," Sydney shrugs. "If she wants my opinion on anything, tell her to give me a call."

Terry opens his mouth to answer, but not before the door swings open and Eric Weiss sticks his head in. "Hey, Terry, I-- oh." His expression sours when he sees Michael and Sydney. "Theresa was away from her desk, I didn't know anyone was in here."

"It's okay, Eric, we were just visiting, come on in," Terry says. "Did you know Mike and Syd were in town?"

"Ah-- I think Michael mentioned he was planning a visit," Eric says, looking as if he'd rather be absolutely anywhere else in the world. "But I'll leave you alone, this can wait."

"No, actually, we should probably go," Michael says, rising from his chair. "I don't want to take up any more of your time, Terry, I just thought as long as I was in town, I'd stop by and say hi."

"I'm glad you did. It was good to see you, Mike, and you too, Syd and Grace," Terry says with a smile. "I wish you were in town longer, I'm sure Georgia would love to have you guys out for dinner."

"Next time," Michael promises. "Ready, Syd?"

"Sure," Sydney says, settling Grace back into her stroller. "It was good to see you, Terry. Eric."

The two of them have barely made it out of the office when Eric rushes up to them. "What, you weren't even going to stop by and say hi?"

"I think you said enough when we spoke the other night," Michael says, slipping an arm around Sydney's waist. 

"Come on, man. You know you just called me up to give me shit about Kerri, that wasn't even cool."

"I hardly think this is the place to discus this," Michael says, eyes darting around the room.

"Then come talk to me," Eric demands. He glances at his watch. "I have to be in court soon, but what are you doing tomorrow?"

"Lunch with Will and Francie," Michael says, glancing at Sydney. "Dinner with Kerri."

"And Ben?" Eric asks with a grimace.

"And Ben."

"Well, what about the afternoon?" Eric persists. "We could hang out, shoot a few baskets, no pressure."

Michael runs a hand back through his hair with a sigh. "I don't know, man."

"Come on, Mike," Eric says. "You don't throw away a twenty year long friendship over one argument."

"It wasn't just the one argument, Eric," Michael says, shaking his head. "It's everything that the argument was about."

"Well, come on, Mike, at least give me a chance to talk it out with you, don't just write me off."

The words aren't even directed at Sydney, but they almost make her take a step backward. _Don't just write me off_. She thinks of Todd Reynolds, coldly fired for one, albeit rather large, mistake, and Michael's insistence that the way he handled his personal and professional lives were two completely separate things.

Were they?

"Maybe-- maybe you should talk to him, Mike," Sydney says, her voice low.

Michael looks at her in what can only be described as complete shock.

"I mean, it's up to you, of course, but--" Sydney lets her voice trail off. Of course he has no reason to ever talk to that cheating bastard Eric Weiss ever again. But somehow, she wants him to want to. 

"I-- have to think about it," Michael says haltingly, shaking his head. "Maybe I'll give you a call, okay, Eric?"

"Great," Eric says, face lighting up in a smile. "Maybe I'll see you tomorrow, then. Bye, Syd."

He turns and hurries away, leaving Michael to look at Sydney like he has no idea what just happened there.


	20. Part Twenty

****

Part Twenty

Michael waits until they are alone in the elevator to begin speaking. "Well, that was certainly a surprise."

"I know, Michael, I--"

"Every time I've spoken to him since the divorce, Sydney, you've gotten this betrayed, hurt look on your face. You completely ignored him when he came out to the party we had for Grace, made it clear that you wished Kerri was there instead. And when I asked you to go with me to meet him for coffee over Christmas, your exact words were, _You owe me big for this, Michael_. I felt bad for even asking you, because you seemed so unhappy. I feel guilty every time I mention Eric's name in a positive context, Sydney."

"I know, Michael," Sydney sighs, tucking the strands of hair that have come loose from her bun behind her ear. "I can't stand him. I'd be completely happy if he dropped off the face of the earth. But something he said--" She breaks off, and Michael looks at her expectantly. She takes a deep breath before continuing. "He said, _Don't just write me off_."

"So?"

"So, I just think you should hear him out before writing him off so quickly. You do that sometimes, and--"

"I do what?" Michael's expression is hurt, confused, angry, and Sydney takes another deep breath before responding.

"Write people off."

Michael stares at her. "When have I ever written someone off?"

"I don't know, Michael, I--"  


"You're thinking something, Sydney, just say it."

Sydney sighs. "Todd Reynolds."

Michael balls his right hand into a fist and hits the elevator wall, and Sydney's eyes widen in surprise. The elevator doors open into the parking garage, and Michael storms out, Sydney following as quickly as she can while pushing Grace's stroller.

"Where did you park?" he demands.

"O--over there. Row C-1. Michael--"

"I thought we were over the Todd Reynolds thing." Michael stops walking abruptly and whirls around to face her. "I thought you understood why I had to do that."

"I do."

"Really?" Michael challenges. "Because I feel like in your mind, you've recorded the day I fired him as the day I lost my soul, or something."

"Okay, that situation was different, I get it!" Sydney cries in frustration. "But Eric's your _friend_, Michael, and I hate to see you write him off as quickly and coldly as you wrote off an employee who fucked up."

Now Michael's expression changes from angry to hurt. "You think I was cold about the way I dealt with Eric?" he asks. "Syd, I've lost sleep trying to understand how he could do what he did to Kerri, how he could show such little remorse for what he did and so much-- God, _pity_ for me and the way I live my life."

"He pities you?"

"Damn right, he pities me!" Michael explodes. "Why would I settle for one woman when I could have new ones any time I wanted? Never mind that none of the other women I could have would even come close to being as beautiful and wonderful as you are. Never mind that I love you so much that I still can't see straight. Never mind that I've known you for eleven years and all I can think about is spending every second I can with you, of finding ways to make you happy. Who else would I ever find that does that to me, Sydney?"

Sydney almost smiles. They're fighting, and he's declaring his love for her. Only Michael. "Probably no one," she teases. "Though you could probably find someone who doesn't second guess your decisions. That would probably be a nice change."

"Damn it, Sydney, this is serious!"

"I know," she says, moving towards him and wrapping her arms around his neck. For his part, he stands there looking angry that she isn't taking him seriously and refuses to touch her. He really is a child sometimes. "This conversation went completely wrong, Michael," she says. "All I wanted is for you to think about it before you decided whether or not to hear Weiss out, that's all."

"That's all?" She finally gets a half-smile out of him.

"Mm-hmm."

"And we're standing in a parking garage screaming at each other over that?"

"Seems a little silly doesn't it?" she says, running her fingers through his hair. "I never meant to make it seem like you _have_ to talk to him. Of course it's your decision."

Michael bites his lower lip and looks away. "You keep saying that," he says quietly. "As if you think that I think I'm obligated to obey your every wish."

Sydney is a little surprised by the comment. Their marriage has never been a question of one feeling obligated to _obey_ the other. What had he said after his argument after Eric the other night? Something like, _He acts like the only reason anyone would let himself get trapped in a marriage is because he's let his wife turn him into some kind of slave or something. _Is that what Eric had said that had gotten Michael so upset? Did Eric think that Sydney was controlling Michael? God, and here Sydney's father thought that Michael was controlling her. How differently their marriage must appear from the outside. 

"Of course you're not obligated," Sydney finally says quietly. "But I know how much you hate to see me unhappy." He would do anything to keep her happy, he'd just said as much, and there was no doubt in Sydney's mind that if he really thought that she wanted him to make amends with Eric, then he would at least try.

He looks at her for a long moment. "You're right, I do," he says quietly. "And when you first came into Terry's office, Sydney, you didn't seem happy. Why? What happened at your father's?"

Sydney sighs. "Let's walk to the car as we talk about it, okay?" She disentangles herself from him and takes hold of Grace's stroller.

"Wait, no. Do you want to walk over to that coffee shop next door, sit down for awhile and talk about it before we go get the kids? Are we still having dinner with your dad?"

"God, no," Sydney shakes her head, and the two of them begin walking again, Sydney pushing the shoulder, Michael with a hand resting lightly on her back as she walks. "I mean, yes, the coffee shop sounds nice, I could use a little snack, and no, we're not having dinner with my dad. Do you know that he didn't even know that I don't eat meat? How many Christmases have we spent with me avoiding the turkey, how many meals have we had out at restaurants, and he didn't even know."

"Somehow I suspect that that's not the reason we're not having dinner with him."

Sydney laughs. "No, of course it's not. We're not having dinner with him because things never change with him, Michael. I always think things will be different when I see him, but they never are."

"What did he say this time?"

"Oh, you know. The same old stuff," Sydney says, shaking her head. "Does Emily know that she doesn't have to have babies when she grows up, and does she know that if she does, she can still do other things, and am I confusing your happiness with my own." Sydney sighs. "I know that he truly does just want what's best for me, but he doesn't know enough about me to judge what's best, and I'm just-- I'm done, you know? I'll be civil to him, I'll invite him for holidays and let him see the kids when he wants, but I'm through putting forth the effort." She shakes her head. "Maybe you're right, Michael. Maybe there does come a point when you just have to admit that a person's a lost cause and write them off."

"I won't argue with that," Michael admits. "But you're right, too, Syd. You can't write someone off too early. You have to know when to cut them off and when to give them another chance."

"What, do you think my father deserves another chance?"

"Syd, I don't know." They leave the parking garage and move out onto the sidewalk. "Things have been the same with him for a lot of years, and I hate the things he says to you, hate the way he makes you feel."

"I hear a _but _coming on," Sydney groans.

"_But_ he is your father, and I think that means he gets a few more chances than an employee or even a friend," Michael says, holding the coffee shop door open for her and Grace.

"I've given him a million, Michael," Sydney sighs.

"I know you have," Michael says. "And you have every right to write him off, if you want to. I just think you should think about it before you make any rash decisions."

Sydney smiles. "How did you get so smart?"

He returns her smile. "Oh, I have this great, really compassionate wife who doesn't hesitate to let me know when I'm being an unfeeling jackass."

"She sounds amazing," Sydney says with a smile.

"She is," Michael assures her.

"Mmm," Sydney says, kissing him lightly. "She'd have to be, to land a guy like you."

"You can sit wherever you want," a waitress says, thrusting menus into their hands as she rushes by.

"You want to sit at that table by the window?" Michael asks.

"In a minute," Sydney says, digging in her purse. "I want to make a phone call first." She digs out her cell phone and dials, waiting for the familiar voice to pick up on the other end.

"Dad? I've reconsidered about dinner."


	21. Part Twentyone

****

Part Twenty-one

"Last chance to back out," Michael says, his voice low, as they stand on Sydney's father's front stoop that night.

"No," Sydney sighs, smoothing the front of her dress. They'd spent about an hour at the coffee shop, eating pie and talking, then they'd gone back to the hotel so she could shower-- wash off all traces of the afternoon, start fresh. She wears a red and white flowered halter dress that she adores; it is cut in such a way that she will be able to wear it at least a few months into her pregnancy, yet it still looks flattering. Besides, it looks cheerful, something she most definitely us not. "Let's do this."

Michael reaches out and rings the bell.

"I changed my mind, let's go pick up a pizza and eat it at the hotel," Sydney quips, only half joking.

"Too late," Michael says with a smile. "I already rang the bell."

The door opens, and Sydney's father appears in the doorway. "Hello, Michael, Sydney. Grace," he adds, managing an actual smile for the little girl Sydney carries on her hip. "Please, come in."

"Daddy!" Emily cries, hurling herself past her grandfather and into her father's arms.

"Hey, princess." Michael's face lights up as he scoops up the little girl.

"Hi, Mommy," Emily adds, twisting in her father's arms to plant a kiss on her mother's cheek. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too, sweetheart," Sydney says fondly, smoothing back her daughter's dark blonde hair.

"Did you have fun with your Grampy today?" Michael asks Emily.

"Yep," Emily says with a smile. "We went to the park, and there was a carnival there--"

"I didn't know there was going to be a carnival," Sydney's father says wryly.

"And we ate cotton candy and rode rides, and Jack throwed up--"

"Is he all right?" Sydney asks with a concerned frown.

"He's fine," Sydney's father assures her. "He's in the back yard right now, making use of your old basketball hoop."

"--and then Grampy took Jack to the bathroom, and I was as-posed to wait outside, and I--" Emily's little face suddenly grows a bit stormy, a bit sheepish.

"Tell them what you did, Emily," her grandfather prompts with a stern frown.

Emily bites her lower lip. "I wanted to ride just one more ride, Daddy and Mommy, so I--"

"Emily," Sydney scolds. "Did you go off by yourself after your Grampy told you to wait?"

"Yes," Emily says, eyes filling with tears.

"I told you to be good for your Grampy, didn't I?"

"Yes," Emily says, the tears dangerously close to spilling over. "But the ride wasn't very far, Mommy, and he found me right away." She turns her teary eyes to her grandfather. "You're not still mad at me, Grampy, are you?"

"I wasn't really mad, sweetheart," her grandfather says gently. "But you scared me, and when I'm taking care of you, you have to listen to me, okay?"

"Okay," Emily says tearily. "I'm sorry, Grampy. I love you." She motions for him to come close, and she plants a kiss on his cheek.

"I love you, too, sweetheart." Sydney's father looks absolutely enchanted by the little girl.

"Can I go play with Jack now?" Emily asks in a small voice.

"Yes, darling," Sydney says. "We'll be out in a second, okay?"

"Okay!" Just like that, any traces of tears are gone, and Emily squirms in her father's arms until he puts her down so she can run away.

Jack stares after her, amazed. "I think I just let a three-year-old wrap me around her little finger."

"Don't worry," Michael says with a smile. "It's easy to do."

"And I think that little actress knew exactly what she was doing the entire time."

"She knows how to get what she wants," Sydney says flatly, not finding this nearly as amusing as the men clearly do. "And Dad, you should have taken her into the men's room with you, she's too little to be left alone in a public place like that, even for a minute."

"Oh, hey, no harm done," Michael says quickly. "Let's join them out back, shall we?"

"That's a good idea," Jack agrees. "It's so nice I thought we'd eat out at the picnic table, anyway. I just ordered a couple of pizzas," he says, a bit apologetically. "That's what the kids said they wanted."

"Lovely," Sydney says coolly. "They've already had Popsicles and cotton candy today, I suppose they can use a little grease to go with their sugar."

"Sydney--" Michael begins, then clearly thinks better of it. "Will you excuse us for a minute, Jack?"

"Of course," Jack says, looking back and forth between the two of them.

"Here, take Grace," Michael encourages, taking the child from Sydney and handing her to Jack.

"Oh, I don't know if I--" Jack says, eyes growing big.

"No, it's okay. She just had a diaper change," Michael says with a smile. "Take her outside, and we'll be there in a sec."

Jack walks away, carrying Grace as if she is made of glass, and Sydney glares at Michael. "What?" she demands, folding her arms in front of her crossly.

"If you're going to give him another chance, give him another chance," Michael says softly. "Don't act like you're doing him a favor just by being here, and don't attack every little thing he says or does."

"He lost Emily, Michael!" Sydney cries.

"He didn't lose Emily."

"He left her alone at a fucking carnival," Sydney hisses. "And he let Jack ride rides, Michael, Jack _always _gets sick on rides."

"He couldn't have known that," Michael points out.

"Then he shouldn't have taken them to a carnival."

"You're behaving like a spoiled child."

Sydney's eyes grow huge. "I cannot _believe_ you just said that to me."

"Look, I'm sorry," Michael says with a sigh, leaning against the wall. "But please, could you give him a chance? He's trying."

"Trying, and failing," Sydney responds. "Failing miserably."

With that, she spins on her heel and moves toward the backyard.


	22. Part TwentyTwo

****

Part Twenty-two

Sydney strides toward the back door and swings it open; what she sees on the other side stops her dead in her tracks.

Her father sits at the picnic table, Gracie in his lap, facing him. "How's Grampy's little girl?" he coos. "Does Gracie love her Grampy? I think she does! She does!" Grace lets out delighted baby sounds and grins in response.

"Will wonders never cease," Michael murmurs, coming up behind his wife.

"Gracie loves everybody." Sydney does her best to sound dismissive, but she is not, after all, made of stone, and she actually feels herself tearing up a little.

"Should Syd and I wait in here for the pizzas, Jack?" Michael calls.

"No, I told the pizza guy to come around back. Feel free to help yourself to whatever you want to drink, though," Jack says, glancing up from his granddaughter. "There's lemonade and iced tea and I think even a beer or two if you want one, Mike."

"Can we bring you anything?"

"An iced tea, please, if you don't mind."

"I want lemonade, Daddy!" Emily cries from her place playing basketball with her brother. Actually, Sydney suspects that she's mostly getting in the way of her brother playing basketball, but he doesn't seem too thoroughly annoyed yet.

"Say please, sweetheart," Sydney admonishes gently.

"Please!"

"We'll bring both pitchers out," Michael promises.

"Grace's playpen is still set up in the living room, I should grab it, bring it outside," Sydney says.

"I'll get it," Michael says. "If you want to get the drinks."

"You're sure?"

"Uh-huh." They move back into the kitchen, and he leans over to kiss her before starting towards the living room.

"Michael," she says, feeling suddenly choked up for no real reason. Hormones, she supposes.

"Hmm?"

"I love you," she says, biting her lower lip. "Very much."

"I love you, too, sweetheart." He kisses her once more before leaving the room. He has no sooner gone than Sydney hears Gracie begin to wail, and her father appears in the kitchen. 

"Could she be hungry?" he asks. "Do you have a bottle?"

"Oh. Yes." Within a few minutes, Sydney's father is sitting in a kitchen chair, giving Grace her bottle while she stares up at him with soulful eyes.

"Emily-- Emily does that sometimes," Sydney blurts out.

Her father looks up at her, a question in his eyes.

"Runs off," she says in a rush. "When we go to visit Michael at the office sometimes, I'll stop for a second to talk to his secretary, and the next thing I know she'll be gone."

"Which is why you have to watch her carefully," her father counters. "I get it, Sydney."

"No, I wasn't saying that to--" Sydney takes a deep breath. This was going all wrong. "She's a good girl," she says quietly. "There's just-- you know-- no making her do anything she doesn't want to do."

"Like her mother."

Sydney bites her lower lip and looks away. "You don't know anything abut me, Dad."

"I did when you were her age," her father responds. "And somehow I don't suspect you've changed that much."

Sydney opens her mouth to respond, but then Michael appears, playpen folded up under his arm. "Oh. Is she going to sleep?" Michael asks, smiling down at his daughter, who sucks drowsily on her bottle. "Maybe I should have left this set up in there, it'll probably be too noisy for her in the backyard."

"It'll be fine," Sydney says. "Grace can sleep through anything."

Grace looks up at her father through half-lidded eyes, smiling sleepily around her bottle and reaching one arm up towards him.

"She loves her daddy," Jack says softly.

"Yeah," Michael says with a smile. "I think she does."

"Why don't you finish feeding her," Jack suggests. "And I'll set up the playpen."

"Thanks, Jack."

Sydney watches as the two men switch places, smiles fondly as Michael smiles down at his daughter. "Hi, sweetie," he whispers. "Daddy loves you."

Sydney and her father slip out with the playpen and pitchers of iced tea and lemonade, returning once for ice and glasses.

"He's good with her," her father comments, as he sets up the playpen and Sydney pours glasses of iced tea and lemonade.

"You're not bad, either," Sydney admits.

"Mommy!" Emily cries. "Watch me do this!" Inexplicably, she throws herself to the ground and rolls herself over in a somersault.

"That's great, sweetheart," Sydney says with a smile.

"You could be a gymnast," her father adds.

Sydney dares a smile at her father. "Michael and I have talked about that," she tells him. "Getting her into some classes, gymnastics, dance, piano. We don't know a lot of kids for her to hang out with in New York, we think it would be a good way for her to meet people. Jack plays on a soccer team, and Michael keeps talking about putting him in peewee hockey next year, but the thought makes me more than a little nervous." She's babbling, and she doesn't know why.

Maybe she thinks the longer she talks, the longer this truce they've seemingly forged will last, and they'll be able to finish this dinner without raised voices and hurt feelings.


	23. Part Twenty Three

****

Part Twenty-three  
  
"I don't want to wear a dress, Mommy."  
  
"Of course you do, darling," Sydney says with a sigh. It is the next morning, and she and Michael are getting the children ready for the day. "Don't you want to look pretty?"  
  
"I don't care," Emily says petulantly.  
  
"Come on, princess," Michael says from where he sits, giving Grace a bottle. "Put on the dress for Mommy."  
  
Emily sighs and, as if making a huge sacrifice, raises her arms above her head so her mother can put the dress on.  
  
"I'm going to go brush my teeth, Emily, and when I get back, I'll fix your hair, okay?"  
  
"I don't want my hair fixed."  
  
Sydney sighs. Looks like it's going to be one of those days.  
  
She moves to the hotel suite's bathroom, and Michael follows, Grace still in his arms.   
  
"Are you okay?" he asks. "You've been pretty quiet since we left your dad's last night."  
  
"I'm fine," she says, leaning against the sink. "I've just been trying to process the whole experience." They'd actually had a fairly civil meal, though Sydney had felt like they had been walking on eggshells the entire time-- she'd ignored all of her father's vaguely disapproving frowns, and she could practically see her father holding his tongue at a few instances.  
  
"I think it went okay," Michael says cautiously.  
  
Sydney frowns, struggling to put her thoughts into words. "I started out so angry," she says slowly. "All I could think about is how my father doesn't know us at all, so he invents personalities for us based on how he imagines people in our situation think and feel."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Sydney sighs. "Like you're this rich lawyer, and I'm your wife, I stay at home with the kids, so automatically he assumes that you're the type of man who wants to keep the little woman at home for the sake of your image and your ego, and that I pretend to be happy but secretly want something--" she considers. "Something different. I refuse to say something _more_."  
  
Michael silently waits for her to continue.  
  
"But last night it seemed almost like he was starting to see past those ideas," Sydney says with a slight smile. "Like, he said that you're good with Grace, and I can't imagine him ever seeing that before."  
  
Michael returns her slight smile.  
  
"And I said that it's impossible to get Emily to do anything she doesn't want to do, and he said, _just like her mother_. I almost feel like that was his way of acknowledging that he knows that I wouldn't be living the type of life I live if it didn't feel right, you know?" Sydney takes a deep breath. "And you said at the beginning that I was behaving like a spoiled child."  
  
"Yes," Michael says softly. Sydney loves that he only acknowledges it, doesn't try to take it back.  
  
"You were right," Sydney sighs. "And I think that subconsciously I wanted him to call me on it, not you. I wanted to pick a fight, to have it out with him. But I don't know if that would have been the best thing, you know?" She runs a hand back through her hair. "Maybe at this point in our lives it's enough that we can be civil for the kids' sake, and that we're both finally trying."  
  
"Maybe," Michael agrees.  
  
Sydney smiles at him. "Are you going to call Eric?"  
  
Michael looks away. "I don't know, Syd."  
  
"Maybe you shouldn't," Sydney says softly.  
  
Michael looks at her in surprise. "What?"  
  
"If you're not ready to give him a second chance," Sydney says. "It might not do you any good. I walked into my father's house last night ready to storm out at the tiniest provocation. I wasn't ready."  
  
"But it turned out okay."  
  
"Because of you," Sydney points out. "If you hadn't been there to call me on the way I was acting, it could have been a disaster."  
  
Michael's eyes light up. "Come with me."  
  
Sydney blanches. "You don't need me, Michael."  
  
"But I want you there," he insists. "I'll tell you what, we'll meet him at a park, take the kids, he and I'll shoot baskets and Jack and Emily can play on the swings or whatever, and you can just sort of keep an eye on things and step in if things get ugly."  
  
"Like a referee?" Sydney asks, amused.  
  
"Like a referee," he agrees. "Oh, you're finished, aren't you, Gracie?" he asks his daughter. He takes the bottle from her and repositions her in his arms so he can burp her. "So will you come?"  
  
"Yeah," Sydney says with a small smile. "I'll come."  
  
He kisses her on the cheek and leaves her to brush her teeth and wonder what the hell she's just gotten herself into.   



	24. Part Twenty Four

****

Part Twenty-four

The first time Sydney's father met Michael, it was practically an accident. Sydney had spoken to her father even less then than she did now, so though she'd been dating Michael for something like three months, her father didn't even know he existed. She'd bumped into her father at a big party Michael's law firm had thrown, walking away from the bar.

"Dad!" She'd been in an extraordinarily good mood that night; her relationship with Michael was still new enough that she was in a perpetual state of giddiness, yet she already felt so close to him. She'd been nervous and thrilled when he'd asked her to attend the firm's party with him, and so far she was having a wonderful time-- dancing with Michael, meeting his colleagues, all the while looking like a million bucks in a satiny black, practically backless dress. "Wow, look at you in that tux, you look great!"

"Thank you, Sydney," he'd responded, looking more than a little taken aback at seeing her. "You look great, too."

"Thanks," Sydney had said, beaming. Michael was off talking to someone, and she'd gone to get a quick drink. "So-- wow, I didn't expect to see you here. Jennings Aerospace must be one of the firm's clients."

He'd seemed bewildered by the casual, familiar way she'd said _the firm_. "Yes. Yes, it is. I had to make an appearance. What are you--?"

"Oh," she'd said with a smile. "My boyfriend, Michael Vaughn, is an attorney th-- oh, here he is."

"Sweetheart, there you are," Michael had said, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. "I've been looking everywhere for you, you still haven't met Mr. Kendall."

"Oh, I don't know, Michael," she'd said worriedly. "Meeting your boss…"

"He'll love you," Michael had assured her. "Everyone does."

"You're so sweet." They'd kissed twice before Sydney had realized her father was still standing there, or rather, Michael had.

"Hi," he'd said smoothly. "I don't think we've met. I'm Michael Vaughn, I'm an associate at Kendall and Peters."

"Oh, gosh, I'm so rude," Sydney had blurted out. "Michael, this is my father, Jack Bristow, Dad, this is Michael, my boyfriend."

"A pleasure," her father had said, shaking Michael's hand before turning curious eyes back to Sydney. "That's a beautiful dress, Sydney."

"Thank you," Sydney had said, beaming.

"It looks--" her father had said, looking as if he were struggling to choose his words carefully. "It looks rather expensive, if you don't mind my saying so."

Sydney had minded, actually, but she'd been so happy that night that she'd glossed over the comment. "Oh-- it was a gift from Michael," she'd responded, slipping an arm around her boyfriend's waist, letting the other hand rest lightly on the lapel of his tuxedo jacket. "He spoils me a bit, I'm afraid."

"Syd, I dragged you to this thing, it was the least I could do."

"Hmm, I suppose so," she'd teased, adjusting his tie playfully. "I'm having such a miserable time, after all."

"Are you?" he'd asked, the glint in his eye telling her that he knew she wasn't serious.

"Yes, baby," she'd responded coyly. "I don't know how you'll _ever_ make it up to me."

"I should leave you two alone." Sydney's father had looked terribly uncomfortable, and though she had been too wrapped up in Michael to notice then, now she couldn't say she blamed him. She and Michael had been in that early stage of love where they'd scarcely been able to keep their hands or their eyes off of each other; she imagined that anyone they'd talked to that night must have felt like they were intruding.

Still, Sydney had seen the wheels turning in her father's head, the questions in his eyes-- Who was this man? How long had he and Sydney been together? They seemed close-- how was it that he had never heard of him? The truth was, Jack and Sydney hadn't even spoken since Sydney had begun seeing Michael. Her father hadn't known that then, but Sydney suspected that he had known one thing: he didn't know his daughter at all anymore. He'd thought he'd known about her life, or at least the important parts-- he'd known where she'd gone to college, where she was teaching school, he even knew her best friend Francie. But now here she was in front of him, a young woman, impeccably dressed and perfectly made up, beautiful and obviously in love. Sydney supposes it must be hard for any father, realizing that his little girl is all grown up, but it must have been even harder for Jack Bristow: she'd grown up when he wasn't looking, and he didn't know anything about her anymore.

Seeing her like that must have been enough to make the man panic, because he'd made more of an effort to be part of her life after that. He'd called her later that week and asked her out to lunch, something she could never remember him doing before. He'd done reasonably well, calling at least once a month, dropping by the house every now and then after she and Michael's kids were born. But he'd made a mistake, at least as far as Sydney was concerned: he'd started to think he knew her well enough to make judgments about her and her life, when the truth was, he hadn't even begun to know her. He'd never seemed to understand that. Sydney thought that at the previous night's dinner, he was at least beginning to. Their relationship was profoundly messed up and they made steps painstakingly slowly, but at least they were making them.

"Earth to Sydney."

Sydney shakes her head as if to clear the thoughts from it and turns to Francie. She, Michael, and the children are having lunch with Francie and Will; Francie had excused herself to use the phone while Michael and Will were busy with the grill, Jack and Emily played tag, and Gracie slept; Sydney had let herself get lost in thought. "Sorry."

"You looked pretty serious there," Francie said with a smile. Sydney couldn't help but smile, herself, at how happy Francie looked; after years of trying unsuccessfully, she was finally pregnant with her and Will's first child.

"I was just thinking about my father," Sydney sighs.

"Which I know is always fun," Francie jokes. "Are you going to see him while you're in town?"

"He spent yesterday afternoon with the kids, actually, and then Michael and I went over for pizza last night," Sydney confesses.

"How'd it go?"

Sydney shrugs. "All right," she says, deciding to leave it at that. "So, have you met this Ben Strand that Kerri's so crazy about?"

Francie's smile fades. "Yeah, I've met him."

"You don't like him?" Sydney asks with concern.

"Oh, no, it's not that, he seems great," Francie says hastily. "He's super sweet to her, and her boys even like him, which is a miracle since she and Eric haven't really been apart that long."

"Probably even they can tell how much happier Kerri is now," Sydney guesses.

"Yeah." Francie still doesn't sound convinced.

"Do you think-- what, that it's too soon?"

"Sort of," Francie sighs. "And part of me-- oh, don't tell her I said this."

"Of course not," Sydney assures her.

"Part of me's a little disappointed," Francie confesses. "She took the divorce really hard, you know, but she seemed like she was finally ready to move on with her life."

"And move on she did," Sydney says cryptically.

"Yeah, but not--" Francie frowns as if trying to put her thoughts into words. "After she came back from that trip to New York, Sydney, I think she said she saw you there--"

"She did," Sydney confirms.

Francie nods. "Well, she came back in really high spirits, really positive, saying she'd decided she needed to take some time for herself, that she was going to take a nice long vacation, two weeks or maybe even a month, and really decide what her next step was going to be. _Maybe I'll go back to school or work, maybe I'll take the boys and move somewhere completely different, somewhere where no one knows me, maybe I'll do something completely insane like start training for a marathon or take up rock climbing, whatever, but I just need some time to myself to figure out what I need._ She seemed really sure about that, really excited about the possibilities for the future."

"She never took the trip," Sydney realizes.

"No," Francie sighs. "Ben moved to town, and she jumped right into a serious relationship with him, and now they're getting married, and it could be a great thing, Syd, I don't know, but she hasn't even taken the time to think anything through, to decide what she wants for herself."

"I was afraid of that." Sydney runs a hand back through her brown hair, a feeling of dread surging through her.

"Will you talk to her?"

Sydney looks at Francie, surprised. "And tell her what? Not to get married?"

"You don't have to go that far," Francie insists. "Just-- I don't know-- tell her I told you she was going to take a trip, and say what a great idea you think that was, and that she should still go."

"I don't know, Fran," Sydney sighs. "I don't think I should get involved."

Francie bit her lower lip. "None of us thought we should get involved when we suspected Eric was fooling around, either, and look how that turned out."

Sydney's eyes widen. "What, you think that would have turned out any differently if we had told her? You and I didn't know anything for sure, Fran. What were we supposed to say?"

"I don't know," Francie says, sitting back against the picnic table. "I just feel like we let Eric make a fool out of her. At least if she had known, she could have left _him_ instead of letting him drop her like she was some piece of--" she stops short, shaking her head sadly.

"Fran, Kerri had to have had her suspicions, too," Sydney points out. "She just chose not to believe them, to look the other way."

"We could have forced her to see what was going on," Francie insists. "That's what friends do, Syd. Friends are supposed to do what's best for each other, even if it means they have to make each other uncomfortable or hurt each other's feelings."

"I thought friends were supposed to let each other live their own lives, yet still be there for each other no matter what." Sydney pauses. "Not that I've even lived up to that definition of a friend with Kerri."

"But she still really respects you," Francie responds. "She really thinks that you've got it all together, Syd. That's why I think you should be the one to talk to her."

"She thinks I've got it all together?" Sydney lets out a brittle little laugh. "Fran, I just got pregnant with my fourth child _accidentally_. Four months after giving birth to my third."

"But you're happy," Francie insists. "You occasionally come across a few bumps in the road, and your life is far from perfect, but you're _happy_."

"So are you," Sydney points out.

"But I'm more your friend than Kerri's, anyway, Syd," Francie says. "She and I never even would have met if it wasn't for you." 

"But you're closer to her than I am now," Sydney responds. "Fran, I've talked to her like a half dozen times in the past _year_."

"Please, Syd."

They sit there in dead silence for what seems like an eternity.

"I'll think about it, okay?" Sydney finally says. "No promises."

"That means you'll do it," Francie says happily. "Thanks, Syd. You're the best."

Sydney isn't so sure.

****


	25. Part Twenty Five

****

Part Twenty-five

"Do you think someone should go check on Mike, Syd?" Francie asks. They have finished lunch; Michael excused himself to "make a quick phone call" nearly twenty minutes ago and never returned.

"I'll do it," Sydney says, flashing apologetic smiles at Francie and Will. "Take Gracie?"

"Sure," Francie says eagerly, taking the little girl from her friend.

Sydney walks into the house to find Michael, seated on the living room couch, head in his hands.

"What's wrong, baby?"

Michael looks up at her with a weak half smile. "I'm not meeting Eric, Syd."

"Sure you are," Sydney says encouragingly. "I'm coming with you, it's going to be--"

"It's not my decision not to meet him, Sydney."

It takes Sydney a moment to realize what he means. "You called to say you'd meet with him, and he said no."

"Some emergency at work," Michael says.

Sydney sinks down next to him on the couch. "Well, you know how those go."

"Yeah," Michael sighs. "I'm actually a little relieved. I don't know if I was ready to meet with him yet."

Sydney slips a comforting arm around him and rests her head on his shoulder.

"I think it's important that you at the very least stay on speaking terms with your father, Sydney," Michael says slowly. "The kids love him, they always have, and I think it's good for them to know their grandfather. But Eric--" he shakes his head. "We were friends for a lot of years, yeah. But we don't have anything in common anymore. I'm not sure if he even respects me, and I sure as hell don't respect him."

Sydney doesn't say anything.

"Maybe we'll be friends again, someday, if something changes, but I'm really okay with it if we're not, right now. I mean, if we were still in LA, I'd have to at least be civil with him because at work, but since we're not--" he breaks off, shrugging.

"I'm glad we're not," Sydney says firmly.

"Syd, you don't have to pretend you don't miss it here."

"I miss certain things," Sydney agrees. "But I miss the way things were when we were here, and that's not the way things are anymore." She shudders. "Just think. If we were still here, I'd have to hang out with _Shawna_ at your office functions."

"Maybe you'd like her," Michael teases.

"She's a gold-digging, home wrecking little bitch," Sydney says crisply. "I think not."

"Easy," Michael laughs.

Sydney smirks. "I suppose I'd do better to direct my anger at him, not her."

"If it hadn't been her, it would have been someone else," Michael agrees.

There is a pause before Sydney speaks again. "Fran wants me to talk to Kerri about Ben."

"What about him?"

Sydney sighs. "Fran thinks Kerri needs to take some time for herself before she commits to marriage."

"So why doesn't she talk to her?"

"She seems to think it would mean more, coming from me," Sydney responds. "I don't know, Mike. If the opportunity's there, I'll take it, but I just don't see myself going out of my way to make things more awkward between Kerri and me. Maybe that makes me a bad friend, I don't know."

"I'm afraid I'm not the best person to give advice in that department," Michael confesses, running a hand back through his hair. "Look at me, I'm friends with a philanderer and a forty-five-year-old man who acts like he's twelve," he says, referring to Weiss and Jake.

"Well, you can't expect all men to be as highly evolved as you," Sydney teases.

Michael's face grows serious. "I don't know about highly evolved," he says softly, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. "But I must have done something right, to end up with you."

Sydney feels her insides turning to mush almost in spite of herself. It's a cheesy line, to be sure, but coming from him… "God, I love you," she breathes, leaning forward to capture his lips in a kiss. He returns the kiss enthusiastically, and she has almost forgotten where she is when she hears a loud--

"Jeez! And people _wonder_ why they never see you without a baby on the way."

"Shut up, Will," Sydney rolls her eyes.

"You guys are crazy, you know," Will says, leaning against the wall with a smirk. "Having four kids."

"We're not _crazy_," Sydney corrects, rising from the couch with mock huffiness. "We're _lucky._"

"Crazy," Will repeats, but he's smiling. "Seriously, you guys. Congratulations on the new baby."

"You, too, Will, I'm so excited for you and Fran," Sydney says warmly. "I can't wait to meet little-- have you decided on names yet?"

"Fran keeps changing her mind," Will rolls his eyes. "Though Emily just informed us that it's going to be a girl named Lucy, and that when Lucy gets big she'll marry Sam."

"If Emily said it, it's probably true," Michael says, eyes glinting with laughter.

"I take it Sam's the name of the new baby?"

"Or Maggie," Sydney says. Michael loops his arms around her from behind, and Sydney leans against him. "Emily's just sure it's going to be Sam, though."

"Two boys and two girls would be nice," Will agrees. "So what are you guys's plans for the afternoon?"

"Actually, I'm kind of tired, I think I'd like to go back to the hotel," Sydney confesses. "Do you mind, Mike?"

"Of course not," he assures her.

They collect their children and say goodbye to Will and Francie, and within minutes they're heading back to the hotel.

"Sam or Maggie tiring you out?" Michael asks her, taking one hand from the steering wheel to rest on her abdomen.

"That, and the thought of seeing Kerri," Sydney admits. The stress of the last couple of days is catching up with her in a hurry; she can already feel her eyelids beginning to droop. "Is it wrong for me to kind of hope that she cancels, too?"

"It's not wrong," Michael says. "But then we wouldn't get to meet Ben Strand."

"You and Ben Strand," Sydney murmurs drowsily.

They are the last words she manages before she drifts off.


	26. Part Twenty Six

****

Part Twenty-Six  
  
"Mom?"  
  
"Yes, Jack?" After an afternoon napping and relaxing at the hotel, Sydney feels calm and rested; they are on their way to meet Kerri and Ben. She keeps one hand on Michael's leg as they drive, feeling, as always, somehow safer when she has physical contact with him.  
  
"Where are we going again?" Jack asks.  
  
"We told you, sweetheart," Sydney reminds him gently. "To see Kerri, Nick, Matt, and Alex," she names Kerri's sons. "And Ben Strand, the man Kerri is going to marry."  
  
"Oh." A pause; Sydney glances at her son in the rearview mirror and can practically see him trying to wrap his mind around something. "How come she isn't married to Eric anymore, again?"  
  
Michael takes one hand from the steering wheel to squeeze Sydney's encouragingly. "We told you about that, sweetie," Sydney says softly. "They got divorced."  
  
"Oh." Another pause. Sydney knows that Jack knows what _divorced_ means, that some of the kids in his class at school have divorced parents, but that the concept is relatively foreign to him. "Why?"  
  
Sydney and Michael exchange a glance. "They had some problems they couldn't work through, buddy," Michael says finally.  
  
"Like what?"   
  
_Like Eric not being able to keep his dick in his pants,_ Sydney thinks, but luckily, she is able to keep that one to herself.  
  
"Private things, Jack," Michael tells him. "Things only they know about. Don't ask Kerri about it, okay? It'll make her sad."  
  
"Will they have toys for me to play with?" Emily pipes up, and Sydney breathes a sigh of relief. "A-cause Will and Frannie didn't have any toys, and it wasn't very fun."  
  
"You had fun playing with Jack, didn't you, sweetheart?" Sydney asks. "And anyway, Nick, Matt, and Alex have toys. I'm sure they'll share."  
  
"They're boys," Emily says poutily. "They'll have _boy_ toys."  
  
"You brought two Barbies, Emily, you'll be fine." Part of Sydney is afraid that Emily is going to be difficult and pouty all night; on the other hand, her attitude might prove a welcome distraction from the Kerri and Ben show.  
  
They pull up to the house, and Michael squeezes Sydney's hand. "You ready for this?" he asks, his voice low.  
  
"Ready as I'll ever be," she responds. They kiss quickly before climbing out of the car and going about the business of gathering up the children and their things.  
  
They ring the doorbell of the familiar house, the house Kerri once lived in with Eric. Kerri is at the door within seconds. "Sydney!" she cries. "Oh, and Michael, and Jack, and Emily, and Grace, it's so good to see you!"  
  
In that moment, Sydney is genuinely glad they decided to come; Kerri just looks so thrilled and relieved. Hugs and hellos are a rather complicated process, as Jack and Emily try to shove past their parents into the house, Sydney tries to simultaneously hold Grace's carrier and offer Kerri a bottle of wine, and Michael struggles with the playpen, Grace's baby bag, and Sydney's purse.  
  
"Hey, Jack!" says Nick, Kerri and Eric's eight-year-old son as he appears in the entryway. "My dad bought me this new video game, wanna play?"  
  
"Yeah!" Jack exclaims, following him out of the room.  
  
"I wanna play, too!" Emily cries, racing after them.  
  
"Like a whirlwind around here," Kerri says, rolling her eyes. Within the next few minutes, she manages to get them situated and their stuff put where it needs to be. "Let's go in the kitchen," she says, her eyes sparkling. "There's someone I want you to meet."  
  
And they go to the kitchen to find an attractive blond man who looks to be about the same age as Kerri and Michael standing over the stove, stirring an incredible smelling sauce.  
  
"Honey, Sydney and Michael are here."  
  
The man turns and offers them a friendly smile.  
  
"Hi. I'm Ben Strand."   


  
  



	27. Part Twenty Seven

****

Part Twenty-seven  
  
"Michael Vaughn. Pleased to meet you," Michael says, shaking Ben's hand.  
  
"Sydney. Hi," Sydney adds, setting Grace's carrier down on the kitchen table. "This is Grace. Our other two children ran off with Nick."  
  
"She's beautiful," Ben says with a smile.  
  
"Is your daughter here?" Sydney asks.  
  
"Oh, no," Ben says, shaking his head with a smile. "She didn't want to spend Saturday night with her old man. You know teenagers."  
  
"Not yet," Sydney says with a smile. "Our oldest will be seven in July, I have to say I'm glad we have awhile to wait for teenagers."  
  
"Syd, Mike, can I get you something to drink?" Kerri jumps in. "Syd, do you think Grace would be more comfortable in her playpen?"  
  
"I'll get her settled before we eat dinner," Sydney assures her. "And water would be great."  
  
"Mike?" Kerri asks. "Water? Something stronger?"  
  
"A beer would be nice, if you have one," he responds.  
  
"Oh, I forgot to buy any," Kerri says, biting her lower lip.  
  
"There's still a couple of bottles in the door of the fridge, Kerri," Ben tells her.  
  
"Thanks, hon. Do you want one, too?"  
  
"Sure, thanks."  
  
"Dinner should be ready any minute," Kerri says, fingers flying up to twist the pearls around her neck nervously. "What do you guys want to do while we wait? Sit at the kitchen table? Should we go to the living room?"  
  
"Here is fine, Ker," Sydney says, eyeing her friend warily. She seems so antsy, skittish. Come to think of it, her moods have been all over the place the last few times Sydney has talked to her. She wonders if she has been this way ever since the divorce, and realizes with a pang that she has no idea.  
  
"Okay. Here," she says with a nod. "Water," she says, pointing at Sydney as if just remembering her friend's request. "And beer," she adds, pointing at Michael and Ben.  
  
"Are you okay, Ker?" Sydney asks.  
  
"Of course." Kerri looks a little offended by the question. "Please, Syd, Mike, sit. Ben, you too. I'll get the drinks and watch the sauce."  
  
The others follow her directions, and Kerri goes about the business of pouring glasses of water and opening beer bottles. "Ben," she says as she does so. "Mike was at UCLA the same time we were."  
  
"Really?" A smile crosses Ben's face. "I knew you looked familiar, man. Wait, did you take Chemistry with--"  
  
"Chemistry? No," Michael says with a smile. "Science wasn't my strong suit."  
  
"You look familiar, though," Ben says with a frown.  
  
_Well, Ben, his best friend had a crush on your girlfriend, but he had to wait to move in on her because you were in the picture,_ Sydney thinks. _Who was his best friend? Oh, Eric Weiss, Ker's ex-husband. Yes, they've been best friends for years. Kerri didn't tell you?_ Sydney hadn't been really looking forward to this dinner by any means, but it is only now she realizes how awkward this could potentially get.  
  
"I think maybe-- I dated a girl in the Delta Gamma house for most of my junior year," Mike says smoothly. "Did you ever--"   
  
"Oh, yeah, Kerri was a Delta Gamma," Ben says with a grin. "That must have been where I saw you. Did Ker tell you we dated in college?"  
  
"Yeah," Mike says. "Actually, she--"  
  
"Mike's good friends with Eric, Ben," Kerri cuts in. "He knew me in college, he heard about you."  
  
Sydney lets out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. _Well, now that we have that out in the open…_  
  
"Yes, I heard all of Kerri's tales about the one that got away," Michael says, winking at Kerri. Kerri smiles at him, and Sydney breathes a sigh of relief. She has never appreciated Michael's ability to make anyone feel comfortable in any situation more than she does right now.  
  
"Well, we found each other again," Ben says, looking at Kerri with sparkling eyes as Kerri distributes the drinks. "How often does that happen, right?"  
  
"Maybe once in a lifetime," Kerri says, offering him a soft smile. They kiss gently, and Sydney can't help but smile. For all of her nervousness, maybe Kerri really is happy.  
  
"So, Syd, what's your story?" Ben asks, as Kerri moves away to check on the sauce. "You weren't a Delta Gamma with Kerri, were you?"  
  
"Sydney was above the whole sorority thing," Kerri calls from the stove.  
  
Sydney stares at her friend, surprised by the faint touch of nastiness in her voice. "I wasn't in a sorority, no," she tells Ben. "But I was at UCLA, like, a million years after these guys, anyway." She says the comment lightly, but she knows damned good and well that Kerri is just a touch sensitive bout the fact that Sydney is younger than she is. _And taller. And thinner. And about the fact that I have a husband who doesn't-- God, Syd, when did you turn into such a bitch?_  
  
"You trying to call me old?" Michael teases.  
  
"Not at all, baby," Sydney assures him, giving him a warm kiss.  
  
Ben smiles. "So you met Kerri through Michael and Eric, then?"  
  
"Mm-hmm. It's weird," Sydney muses. "I actually met Kerri and Eric the same night I met Michael. We were all invited to the same dinner party."  
  
"You should have seen these two," Kerri says, settling down at the table with a glass of wine. "They'd known each other, like, five minutes, and they were all over each other in front of everyone."  
  
Sydney eyes her friend, wondering how many glasses of wine she's had. She and Michael had hit it off at that party, to be sure, but they'd hardly been all over each other. He'd walked her to her car and kissed her goodnight at the end of the night, and no one had even seen. "Well, who could keep their hands off of this one," she says, forcing a smile as she places a hand over her husband's and rubs light circles with her thumb. "I'm sure you two were the same way, when you first got together."  
  
Ben actually bursts out laughing, and Kerri turns accusing eyes on him. "I'm sorry, honey. But remember how shy you were when we met?"  
  
"I was nineteen!" Kerri says hotly.  
  
Grace begins to wail then. Sydney doesn't think she's ever heard a sweeter sound. 


	28. Part Twenty Eight

****

Part Twenty-Eight  
  
"I don't get her, Michael," Sydney says, shaking her head. She and Michael excused themselves to go change Grace's diaper (not that it really takes both of them), and now they stand chatting in Kerri's spare bedroom while Sydney goes about the task.  
  
"She's nervous," Michael responds.  
  
"What does she have to be nervous about?" Sydney demands. "She's known you for like twenty years, me for more than ten."  
  
"She wants us to like Ben."  
  
"Ben seems fine," Sydney says, ripping a Wet One from the container with more force than necessary. "She, on the other hand--"  
  
"Seems to have a few issues she isn't dealing with," Michael finishes.  
  
Sydney shakes her head. "I'd say so. What the hell was up with that comment about us being all over each other the night we met? I don't think we even made physical contact that night, except for the kiss by my car. The way she tells it, you'd think I blew you under the dinner table, or something."  
  
"That wasn't you?"   
  
Sydney laughs in spite of herself. "And of course, I can't make a big deal about not being all over you that night, because she can always just retaliate by telling how I slept with you less than a week later, something I told her years ago, by the way, in confidence, because I thought she was my friend."  
  
"Like she's one to talk," Michael smirks. "She slept with Eric the first night they had an actual conversation."  
  
"No way!"  
  
"Oh, yeah. I was Eric's roommate then. I ran into her in the bathroom the next morning wearing this t-shirt of his that said, _Shuck me, suck me, eat me raw_."  
  
"He did not own a t-shirt that said that," Sydney says, dissolving into giggles.  
  
"I swear, it was from some oyster place, or something."  
  
"And out of all the t-shirts he had, he gave her that one to wear?" Sydney is holding her stomach, she is laughing so hard.  
  
"Knowing Eric, it was probably the only thing he had clean," Michael smirks.  
  
"Was it his first time?" Sydney asks, eyes widening as she remembers Michael's description of Eric as every girl's friend, no one's boyfriend.  
  
"Hey, I'm afraid that information's classified," Michael says, holding up his hands in mock protest.  
  
"It was!" Sydney says gleefully, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "It was his first time, he slept with a girl the first night he talked to her, and then he gave her a t-shirt to wear that said _Shuck me, suck me, eat me raw_."  
  
"To be fair, she wasn't just any girl he just met," Michael says with a slight smile. "She was his dream girl."  
  
Sydney's own smile fades. "God, what the hell happened to them?"  
  
"I don't know, Syd," Michael says softly. "I don't know if--" he bites his lower lip. "I don't know if she loved him like he loved her."  
  
"Yet he was the one who cheated," Sydney says with a frown.  
  
"I won't attempt to justify his doing that," Michael shrugs. "And I won't say she didn't care about him, I know she did. I just don't know if she was really over Ben when they started going out."  
  
"What the hell happened between her and Ben, anyway?" Sydney's frown deepens.  
  
Another shrug from Michael. "He moved to New York to go to film school."  
  
"He could have studied film at UCLA," Sydney points out.  
  
Yet another shrug. "That's all I know, Syd."  
  
"You know what I think?" Sydney asks, the wheels turning in her head at an alarming rate. "I think Ben moved to New York to get away from Kerri-- either he didn't want to commit, or there was another girl out there-- and he totally burned her, totally broke her heart, so she married the next guy who came along-- maybe she fooled herself into thinking she was in love with him, maybe it was a direct _fuck you_ to Ben, who knows-- and now she's going to totally break Ben's heart."  
  
"Or maybe she's just happy to have another chance at the only guy she's ever loved," Michael reasons.  
  
"You're too nice," Sydney says, shaking her head.  
  
"And you've got an overactive imagination," Michael counters.  
  
"This is all very interesting, Michael," Sydney says, picking up her freshly diapered daughter. "Isn't it, Gracie?" she asks the little girl. "Are you all clean and dry and ready to go to sleep?" A faraway expression passes over her face as something occurs to her, and she bites her lower lip.  
  
"What, Syd?" Michael asks, brow knitted in concern.  
  
"I was just thinking," Sydney says with a slight smile. "By this time next year, I'll be carrying around a diaper bag with two sets of diapers."  
  
Michael loops his arms around her from behind. "Pushing around a two-seated stroller."  
  
"You'll have a new brother or sister, Grace," Sydney tells her daughter. "A new little friend." She smiles, a little sadly. "I thought that Grace would always be the baby of the family."  
  
"At one point, you thought the same about Emily," Michael points out. "You adjusted. Everyone did."  
  
"Emily had more time to be the littlest, though," Sydney says. "We'll have to take extra special care to make sure that Grace feels special. To make sure _all_ of them feel special." She moves away from him to sit gingerly on the side of the bed. "Do you think Jack feels overshadowed by Emily?"  
  
"What makes you ask that?"  
  
Sydney shrugs. "He's just so quiet, and she just has this way of making herself the center of attention."  
  
"I think he's happy to let her be the center of attention," Michael responds. "And he has his own talents. He's going to be the next Wayne Gretzky, you'll remember."  
  
Sydney smiles. "We've been in here forever," she realizes.  
  
Michael smirks. "Ker's going to think we're doing things we shouldn't be doing."  
  
"Heaven forbid," Sydney rolls her eyes, rising from the bed. She kisses her husband lightly on the lips. "I love you, baby."  
  
"I love you, too," he says seriously. "Try not to take anything that happens tonight too hard, okay?"  
  
"I know," Sydney says, letting one hand rest lightly on his chest.  
  
"No matter what happens," Michael whispers, kissing her forehead gently. "Monday we'll be back in New York, together, with the kids. That's all that matters."  
  
"I can't believe I'm saying that after only two days here, but I can't wait," Sydney sighs.  
  
He plants another kiss on her forehead. "Ready to go back out there?"  
  
She smiles softly up at him. God, she adores this man. "I'm so happy you came here with me," she tells him. "I'll have to find extra special ways to thank you later."  
  
"You don't have to thank me," he says. A wicked smile crosses his face. "But I have a feeling I'll enjoy it when you do."  
  
"Oh, I'll make tonight worth your while," she promises.  
  
She kisses him again. And knows she'll have no trouble facing whatever waits for her in the kitchen.   
  



	29. Part Twenty Nine

****

Part Twenty-nine  
  
Michael and Sydney settle Grace down in her playpen, then move back to the kitchen.   
  
"Oh, there you are," Kerri breathes. "Did you have trouble getting Grace to settle down? Dinner's ready, I set the dining room table. I was going to have the kids eat in the kitchen, but then I thought maybe we should keep a better eye on the little ones, I made pasta and I'm afraid they'll make a mess, I guess I should have made something different for the kids, like sandwiches or--"  
  
"Kerri," Sydney interrupts.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Are you okay?" Sydney asks with a frown. "You seem a little stressed."  
  
Kerri blushes. "This is just the first time I've entertained since, you know, Eric."  
  
"You're doing fine," Sydney assures her.  
  
Kerri smiles, looking grateful. "Come on. Ben and the kids are already in the dining room, and dinner's on the table."  
  
Kerri directs Sydney and Michael to places at the dining room table (Michael at the right of Ben, who sits at the head of the table, Sydney between Michael and Emily), and they go about the business of serving themselves and getting settled. It is only a few minutes, however, before Sydney realizes that Emily isn't touching her food.  
  
"Aren't you hungry, darling?" Sydney asks the little girl.  
  
"I don't like this, Mommy," Emily says poutily, dropping her fork onto her plate.  
  
"That's not a very nice thing to say, Emily, you haven't even tried it," Sydney scolds.  
  
"Syd," Michael says with a concerned frown. "Look at her. I don't think she feels well."  
  
Sydney peers at her daughter's face. "Are you sick, sweetheart?"  
  
"No," Emily says, her voice small.  
  
"She's just being a baby," Nick declares.  
  
Sydney glares at the eight-year-old child, then glances at Kerri. It is Ben, however, who says, "Be nice, Nick."  
  
"You can't tell me what to do."  
  
"Nick!" Kerri exclaims.  
  
"Do you want to go lie down, sweetheart?" Sydney asks her daughter, doing her best to ignore the others. "In the same room as Gracie?"  
  
"Yes," Emily says in the same small voice.  
  
"Yeah, go be with the other dumb girl baby," Nick taunts.  
  
"That's enough," Ben says firmly.  
  
"I _said_ you can't tell me what to do."  
  
"Come on, Emily," Sydney says, rising and offering the little girl her hand.  
  
"Do you want me to--" Michael begins.  
  
"No. Stay, eat," Sydney assures him. "I think Emily's just had a little too much excitement today, I'm just going to get her settled in-- is it okay if I put her to bed in the spare bedroom, Kerri?"  
  
"Of course," Kerri says.  
  
Sydney leads Emily to the spare bedroom, where Grace dozes in her playpen.  
  
"Here you go, darling," Sydney says. "You and Gracie can be roommates for a little while."  
  
"I want to put on my jammies," Emily responds.  
  
"I'm sorry, sweetheart, we didn't bring them with us, they're back at the hotel."  
  
"You brought Grace's jammies," Emily says accusingly.  
  
"Because we knew she'd want to go to sleep here, Emily, we didn't know you'd want to."  
  
"I want my jammies," Emily says, eyes filling with tears. "My pink ones with the fishies on them."  
  
"I'm sorry, sweetie, we didn't bring them," Sydney says. "Just lie down in your dress, okay?"  
  
"I don't wanna," Emily says, stamping her little foot.  
  
Sydney takes a deep breath, willing herself to be patient. "Do you want me to ask Kerri if one of the boys has a t-shirt you can borrow?"  
  
"No!" Emily says, crossing her arms in front of her.  
  
"Do you want to just sleep in your underwear?"  
  
"No!" Quite inexplicably, Emily bursts into tears, real gut-wrenching, heartbreaking sobs. Sydney stands there for a moment, stunned, before coming to her senses. She sits on the bed, pulling her daughter onto her lap.  
  
"Shh, Emily," Sydney soothes, rocking her back and forth. "I know this isn't just about the pajamas. Tell me what's wrong."  
  
"I don't want Daddy to leave!" Emily wails.  
  
Sydney's eyes grow wide with alarm. Whatever she was expecting her daughter to say, it certainly wasn't that. "Leave? What do you mean? Daddy's not going anywhere."  
  
"That's not what Nick said."  
  
_Nick_? What the hell did he know about anything? "What did he tell you?" she demands.  
  
"H- he said that his daddy left a-cause he didn't want to live with them anymore," Emily says, nearly choking on her tears. "He said our daddy hasn't yet a-cause daddies don't leave babies, but when Gracie and Sam get big as me he will."  
  
Sydney's hand flies to her mouth. She can't believe that a child would be so cruel, that he would tell her daughter such a lie. "Nick doesn't know what he's talking about," she says, the statement coming out more harshly than she meant it to.  
  
"That's what Jack said," Emily says, her tears starting to subside a bit. "But Nick said he knows more than Jack a-cause he's older."  
  
Sydney remembers when older kids had used the _I'm bigger than you so I know everything_ line of reasoning with her. It had made her angry even when she was a child, and she is furious now. She can't remember ever seeing Emily so upset. "Well, I'm a lot older than Nick, and I say he doesn't know what he's talking about," she says fiercely. "Not all daddies leave, Emily, and yours isn't going to."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes," Sydney says, her voice firm.   
  
"Promise?"  
  
"I promise," Sydney says. "Have I ever broken a promise to you?"  
  
"No," Emily says, her voice small.  
  
Sydney offers her daughter a small smile. She thinks of telling her how Michael checks up on her and her brother and sister every morning, how he loves them so much that he can't even leave for work without making sure they're okay. But Sydney knows that Eric didn't leave his family because he didn't love his children. He left for a million reasons, some of which Sydney doesn't even know or understand and can't begin to expect Emily to. Instead she just says, "Get under the covers and lie down, sweetheart."  
  
For once, Emily obeys her mother's orders without an argument, and she lies down on her side. Sydney lies down, too, and begins rubbing her daughter's back.  
  
"Tell me how the baby got in your tummy, Mommy."  
  
Sydney can't help but crack a smile. Of course Emily knew that there was no better time to make such a request. "You really want to know?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Sydney thinks for a moment, trying to come up with an appropriate response. "Well, your daddy and I love each other very much."  
  
"Yeah?" Thankfully, Emily is beginning to sound a bit sleepy.  
  
"And one day that love made a baby."  
  
"But why is it in your tummy?"  
  
Sydney smiles. "Because that's where it needs to be to grow and be safe." She fears her daughter might require a more detailed explanation, but to her mild surprise, Emily just says, "Oh."  
  
Sydney continues to rub her back. "I'm going to stay here till you fall asleep, okay, sweetheart?" she whispers. "And if you wake up, don't be scared. Gracie's here with you, and Daddy and Jack and I will be right down the hall."  
  
"Okay, Mommy. I love you."  
  
"I love you, too, darling."  
  
Emily is asleep within minutes, and Sydney creeps out of the room, pausing on the other side of the room to take a deep breath. She doesn't take long, however, to formulate a plan of action. She simply strides back toward the kitchen and says the first thing that comes to mind.  
  
"Kerri? We need to talk."  



	30. Part Thirty

****

Part Thirty  
  
Everyone at the dining room table looks up at Sydney.  
  
"Yeah, sure, okay," Kerri says, looking a bit startled. She tosses her napkin down onto the table and stands.  
  
"Is Emily okay, Syd?" Michael asks, brow furrowed in concern.  
  
"She's--" Sydney shakes her head. "She's asleep. We'll talk about it later."  
  
Michael looks at her, a question in his eyes. Sydney just shakes her head and leads Kerri to the kitchen.  
  
"Kerri," she says once they're alone, her voice low. "Nick told Emily that his dad left because he didn't want to live with his family anymore, and that the only reason Michael hasn't left us yet is because dads don't leave babies, and that as soon as Grace and Sam are older, he'll be gone."  
  
Kerri's hand flies to her mouth in shock. "Oh, Sydney, that's awful. Emily must have been really upset."  
  
"She was," Sydney says, biting her lower lip. "I've never seen her cry so hard."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry. He shouldn't have said that," Kerri says, shaking her head. "I'll have a talk with him later."   
  
"Good." Sydney feels tears come to her own eyes; she'd done her best to be strong for Emily, but seeing her little girl so shaken up had really taken a toll on her. "Because I really hated to see her like that--"  
  
"I know--"  
  
"--and I'm just afraid of how it's going to be now," Sydney confesses. "Will she cling to Michael every time he leaves the house? Will she freak out every time Grace or Sam has a birthday because she thinks this is the year her daddy will think it's okay to leave?"  
  
"Didn't you talk to her about it?" Kerri asks.  
  
"Of course I did, and she seems calmer now, but--" Sydney takes a deep breath. "I just feel awful. Everyone's always so nice to Emily, no one's ever told her anything like that before, of course she believed Nick when he said it. And of course it had never occurred to her that her daddy might leave, she-- what?" she asks, finally noticing the way Kerri is looking at her.  
  
"Do you even realize how you sound?" Kerri asks unbelievingly. "Going on and on about the psychological damage your little princess might have suffered because someone told her her dad was going to leave."  
  
Sydney bristles. "You didn't see the way she was crying, Kerri."  
  
"Yeah, well, if this is the worst thing that has ever happened to her, feel lucky, Sydney," Kerri says, folding her arms in front of her. "My youngest son is three months younger than Emily, and his daddy has been gone for almost a year. So when he cries until he's out of breath, it's because his daddy actually left, not because some big mean kid told him that his dad was going to."  
  
"I-- I know your boys have been through a lot, Kerri," Sydney says, struggling to say calm. "And I've never known Nick to be cruel. So if he said something like that, it's either because he's so angry he's taking it out on anyone he can, or because he honestly believes that all fathers leave, and either way, I think you need to talk to him."  
  
Kerri sinks down into a kitchen chair, biting her lower lip. "He's so angry," she whispers. "He hates Eric. He pitied me, but now that I'm marrying Ben, he pretty much hates me, too."  
  
"Fran said the boys like Ben," Sydney says with a frown.  
  
"Alex and Matt do. Nick thought he was okay, too, at first, but when I told them we were getting married, Alex asked if that meant Ben was going to be his new daddy, and Nick got _pissed_."  
  
"Well, this all has happened really fast," Sydney says softly, sitting down next to her friend. "I mean, one minute you're still upset about the divorce, the next you're with someone new."  
  
"You think the engagement is a mistake?" Kerri asks tearfully.  
  
"Not necessarily," Sydney says gently. "But maybe you should make it a long engagement, give the boys time to get used to the idea, make sure it's what you really want."  
  
"I love Ben, Sydney," Kerri says, her voice firm. "I've loved him for a lot of years."  
  
"Then-- I'm really glad you've found him again." Sydney is telling the truth--if Kerri really does love Ben, then she's happy for her. "I just don't want you to rush into anything. Fran mentioned that you were thinking about taking a vacation, taking some time for yourself. Maybe you should do that."  
  
"Maybe," Kerri agrees. "Actually, I was kind of thinking about taking the boys and spending some time at my parents' house in Santa Barbara. It's close enough that Ben could visit, but he wouldn't be there all the time-- I think it would be good. Eric could visit, too, or the boys could come here and visit him."  
  
"That sounds really great." Sydney is surprised that her friend has thought this through. Maybe she hasn't been giving Kerri enough credit. She is hurt, and angry, yes. She has rushed into a relationship with Ben, and a little part of her hopes that Eric is jealous, yes. But though she's done some foolish things in her anger, she is not foolish enough to rush into a marriage with Ben without a second thought to herself and the children, and Sydney is proud of her for it.  
  
"I really hate taking advice from you, you know," Kerri blurts out.  
  
Sydney looks at her in surprise. "What? Why?"  
  
Kerri shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. "I don't know," she says uncomfortably. "You were kind of like my little sister, you know? I did everything first-- got married, had babies. Mike and Eric had been working at the firm for awhile before you came around, we hung out at their parties, I gave you advice on-- everything. On your kids, on what to serve when you had the Kendalls over for dinner. And now you've, like, perfected this lifestyle that you've been living for a lot less years than I did, I can't even remember the last time you asked me for advice, and my life's a mess."  
  
Sydney offers her friend a half-smile. "I don't know what I would have done without you the first few years I was with Michael," she says, taking her friend's hand and squeezing it. "But, Ker, just because I don't call you every five minutes for advice now doesn't mean I don't still really value your friendship."  
  
"I'm not sure if that's true," Kerri says, her voice low. "We barely talked for months after the divorce, Syd. You have Michael, the kids, a whole new life in New York. You miss me, but you miss the Kerri who would drop by with the boys and ask if you wanted to go to the park, the Kerri who took trips to the beach with you and your husband and your husband's best friend. I don't think you care much for the Kerri who calls and invites you to dinner with her new boyfriend."  
  
"I don't know that Kerri," Sydney says honestly. "But I want to get to know her."  
  
"I don't think you do," Kerri responds. "I think you dreaded coming here, and I think you can't wait to leave."  
  
Sydney lowers her eyes. "Can you blame me, Ker? I spend the evening dodging your catty comments about how I was all over Michael the night we met, which, by the way, wasn't even true--"  
  
"It was so!" Kerri yelps. "You may not have been making out at the dinner table, or anything, but you were giving him eyes like you wanted to take him home and do ungodly things to him."  
  
"But I didn't!"  
  
"Not that night," Kerri snorts. "You waited, what, four days?"  
  
"It was six, and shut up," Sydney says hotly. "And anyway, at least I didn't wander around his apartment the next morning wearing a t-shirt that said, _Shuck me, suck me, eat me raw_."  
  
Kerri's face registers shock, then anger. Then she bursts out laughing. "I forgot all about that shirt," she says. "I still have it, you know. We almost had to bring in the lawyers to decide on custody of it, but I still have that damned shirt."  
  
"Oh, yeah?" Sydney is laughing, too. "Do you wear it in front of Ben?"  
  
"No!" The two women crack up laughing again.  
  
"So, what?" Sydney asks after the laughter dies down. "Are we friends, or what?"  
  
"Of course," Kerri says with a smile. "I still resent the hell out of you, of course. For about a million reasons. But try not to take my bitchy comments to heart."  
  
Sydney's smile fades. "I really do hope you're happy, Kerri."  
  
"Please, Syd," Kerri says, standing and shaking her head. "I know you mean well, but I can't take your pity and your wishes that someday I'll be as happy as you."  
  
"Ker-- then I don't know if we're really friends," Sydney says. "How can I be friends with someone who's jealous of me instead of happy for me--"  
  
"Hold the hell on," Kerri interrupts, eyes flashing. "I never, _ever_ used the word _jealous_."  
  
"Who resents me. Excuse me," Sydney snaps. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and then opening them again. "I'm going to go," she says. "I'm going to collect my husband and my children, and I'm going to go. You mistake my concern for pity, you won't talk to me about your problems because you can't stand the thought of me feeling sorry for you, you resent me for things I'm not about to apologize for or make excuses for, so-- I'm going to go. If we can only enjoy each other's company when things are perfect in both of our lives, Kerri, then we're not friends."  
  
"Maybe not," Kerri agrees, then pauses. "I don't think I'm ready to lose touch with you, though."  
  
Sydney pauses. The truth is, she isn't ready to not have Kerri be in her life, either. "I'll send you a birth announcement when Sam or Maggie is born," Sydney suggests. "And an invitation to the party we throw for him or her."  
  
"Please don't patronize me with an invitation," Kerri shakes her head. "I know you won't want me there. You'll be afraid I'll cause a scene."  
  
Sydney feels tears spring to her eyes. Maybe she hasn't been the best friend to Kerri, but she doesn't deserve this. "Fine," she snaps. "And let me know when you and Ben get married, but don't bother inviting me to the reception. I'm sure even on what's supposed to be one of the happiest occasions of your lives, you'll be able to imagine that I'm secretly thinking I'm better than you."  
  
"I'm sure you would be," Kerri snaps back. "After all, _you'll_ never have to get married a second time."  
  
"You're right, I won't," Sydney responds. "I married someone I loved the first time around."  
  
Kerri's eyes widen, and Sydney knows she's gone too far, but it's too late to take anything back.  
  
"What the hell does that mean?" Kerri rages.  
  
"You're a smart woman," Sydney responds coolly, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. "Figure it out."  
  
"Are you saying I didn't love Eric?"  
  
"That would be extremely presumptuous of me, considering that I didn't know you then," Sydney responds. "But it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that something's wrong when you marry the first guy you date after the love of your life dumps you to go to film school."  
  
Kerri's mouth drops open. "You bitch."  
  
"Fine, I'm a bitch," Sydney snaps. "I'm a bitch, and I'm leaving. You never have to see me again." With that, she turns on her heel to leave the kitchen.  
  
"You come back here," Kerri demands, rushing around Sydney to block the door out of the room.  
  
"Get the hell out of my way."  
  
"I loved Eric," Kerri insists. "I loved Eric, and he cheated on me."  
  
"For absolutely no reason, right, other than men can't keep their dicks in their pants," Sydney responds bitterly. "That's why he did it, and why you hope to God Michael does it to me, because then I'll stop feeling superior to you, isn't that right? And because you're so miserable you want everyone else in the world to be, too. How does it feel, Kerri, to be as petty and vindictive as your eight-year-old son?"  
  
Kerri slaps Sydney across the face.  
  
Sydney reaches up and rubs her cheek, then pushes her way past Kerri, heels clicking on the hardwood floors as she makes her way to the dining room. "Michael, we have to go."  
  
Michael looks up, obviously alarmed by her frantic tone and by the red spot that must have been appearing on her cheek. "Are you okay?"  
  
"I'm fine, Michael, I just have to go," Sydney says firmly. "Get the kids and our things, okay? I'll meet you in the car."  
  
Of course, Sydney doesn't remember to get the keys from him, so she winds up leaning against the car, struggling for breath and sobbing. A few moments later, she hears footsteps approach, and she looks up, expecting to see Michael.  
  
"Hey," says Ben Strand, offering her a half-smile. "Are you okay?"   
  



	31. Part ThirtyOne

****

Part Thirty-one  
  
Sydney just looks at Ben. It takes her a moment to realize that he has Grace's diaper bag and Sydney's purse slung over his shoulders, Grace's playpen in one hand, and a foil-covered plate in the other. "Where's Michael?" she asks.  
  
"Oh-- ah-- he went to get Emily and Grace, and Grace woke up and started crying, then Emily woke up and started crying, so he's trying to calm them down," Ben said, leaning the playpen against the side of the car and resting the plate on the roof.  
  
"I should go help him," Sydney says, moving to start back toward the house.  
  
"No, he's doing fine. Why don't you just stay here and cool down," Ben suggests.  
  
Sydney smirks. "You just don't want me to go in there and start round two with Kerri."  
  
"There's no reason for you to go back inside," Ben says calmly. "You probably want all of this stuff in the trunk, huh?"  
  
"Sure," Sydney says, taking a deep breath. "Except my purse. And-- what's that?" she asks, nodding at the plate.  
  
"I wrapped up some pasta, I figured you must be hungry. There should be enough there for Emily, too."  
  
Sydney can't help but feel a little touched by the gesture. "That was very sweet. Thanks."  
  
"Not a problem." Unlike Sydney, Ben remembered to get the car keys from Michael, and he unlocks the trunk of the car and begins loading the baby supplies. "I can go back in and get some ice for your face, if you want."  
  
"Please," Sydney scoffs. "She surprised me, more than anything. Don't think for a minute that I couldn't mop the floor with that little--" she stops short, remembering who she's talking to.  
  
"But you didn't, huh?" Ben responds, slamming the car door shut. "You let her slap you and then walked away, so you could look like the bigger person?"  
  
Sydney bristles. "Give me a break. There was absolutely no reason to let things escalate further than they did. I'm pregnant, for God's sake."  
  
"Look, I'm sorry," Ben says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "It's none of my business." He hands her the car keys. "I'm going to go check on Kerri. It was nice meeting you."  
  
"Well, I wouldn't exactly call that meeting nice." Sydney almost giggles at the ridiculousness of the situation. "Hey, Ben, can I ask you something?"  
  
"Sure," Ben says, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.  
  
"I know it's none of my business," she says. "But why did you and Kerri break up in college?"  
  
Ben sighs, running a hand back through his hair. "I applied to film school in New York without really thinking about what it would mean for us. I'd lived in California all my life, and I just wanted to get away, see something new."  
  
"Understandable," Sydney agrees.  
  
"Then when I was accepted, Kerri said maybe she could come with me, and that maybe we should think about getting engaged." Ben shrugs. "I thought I loved her. I did love her. But I was twenty-one years old. And as soon as she said it, I knew that I had to go by myself, take some time to decide what I wanted."  
  
"Also understandable," Sydney notes.  
  
"Yeah," Ben sighs. "Ker even said she understood, but I know that she was really hurt by my decision. And then like a month after I moved she called and told me she met some other guy."  
  
"Eric," Sydney realizes.  
  
"Eric," Ben confirms. "They got married less than a year later, right after they graduated. I wondered for years whether I'd made a huge mistake by leaving. I mean, I loved my wife, and I wouldn't trade my daughter for anything. But my wife's been gone for a lot of years, and I've had a long time to think about it, and I decided that Kerri was the one." A small smile crosses his face. "Is the one."  
  
Sydney smiles, a little sadly. "I really hope it works out for you."  
  
"Me, too," Ben confesses. "I'm afraid I rushed things a little by proposing. I mean, I've been thinking about this, about her, for years, but she's just started to think about me again."  
  
"Well, you might want to give her a little time and space," Sydney agrees. "But for the record, I don't think she ever stopped thinking about you."  
  
Ben smiles. He opens his mouth to speak again, but it is then that Michael comes out of the house, carrying Grace in her baby seat while Emily rides piggy back and Jack hurries along at his side.  
  
"My hero," Sydney sighs, rushing forward to kiss him. "Can we get out of here?"  
  
"Please," he says, smiling as he hands her Grace. "All right, Em. The ride stops here," he says, crouching down so she can climb off.   
  
"Does Daddy make a good horsie?" Sydney asks fondly, smoothing her daughter's hair back from her face.   
  
"Yep," Emily says happily.  
  
"Hey, man. Thanks for helping with the stuff," Michael tells Ben. "And for dinner."  
  
"Not a problem," Ben says good-naturedly. "See you guys. Have a safe trip back to New York."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
He goes back to the house, and Sydney and Michael go about the business of getting the kids loaded into the car. They remember to retrieve her purse and the food from the roof, then they start off.  
  
"Ben said Em and Grace made a fuss when they woke up?" Sydney asks, voice low.  
  
"Oh. No big deal," Michael says with a shrug. "Grace just needed to get back to sleep, and Em just needed a little attention."   
  
Sydney glances into the backseat, where Emily sits talking a mile a minute to Jack, making him laugh.  
  
"Did she tell you what happened?" Sydney asks quietly. Michael shakes his head no, and Sydney tells him what Nick told their daughter.  
  
"That's awful." Michael looks absolutely horrified. "You talked to her?"  
  
"Yes." Sydney smiles. "And then I had to tell her how the baby got in my tummy to cheer her up."  
  
Michael laughs. "What did you tell her?"  
  
Sydney wishes she could snuggle closer to him, but of course their seatbelts and the car's bucket seats conspire against them. She settles for placing a hand on his thigh. "That you and I love each other so much that one day that love made a baby."  
  
"Nice," Michael says with a smile. "Better than what I would have told her."  
  
"I'm sure you would have done fine," Sydney comforts him.  
  
They drive with only the sounds of the children in the backseat breaking the silence for a moment before Michael asks, "What did Kerri say when you told her?"  
  
Sydney grimaces. She should have known she'd have had to tell him about their argument sooner or later. "She thought it was awful, of course. Then I went on about it for maybe longer than I should have, and she said if this was the worst thing that had ever happened to Emily, we were lucky. Her childrens' father really did leave."  
  
"I feel bad for those kids," Michael says quietly. "I think Eric's doing his best to spend time with him, but I know it's not the same. They don't seem the same."  
  
"No, they don't," Sydney agrees. "I think Matt and Alex are a little better at going with the flow, but Nick's taking it really hard. Kerri should think about getting him some counseling." She makes a face. "And checking herself into a mental institution."  
  
"What happened, Syd? She slapped you, didn't she? Did she hurt you?" Michael takes one hand from the steering wheel to touch her cheek tenderly.  
  
"She didn't hurt me," Sydney assures him. "But things got ugly, Michael. She sees my concern for her as pity, she resents me for, as she put it, perfecting the lifestyle she lived for a lot more years than me. I said some things I shouldn't have," she confesses. "About her never loving Eric, about her being as petty and vindictive as her eight-year-old child. That's when she slapped me."  
  
"A bold move, considering she must know that you could mop the floor with her."  
  
Sydney smiles. Her smile fades, though, as she realizes, "A cowardly move, considering she knows that I'm pregnant and would never risk things devolving into a no holds barred, kicking and punching extravaganza." They drive along in silence for a moment before Sydney says, "And I know I shouldn't have said what I did about her never loving Eric, but I really think she married Eric just to hurt Ben. Maybe not consciously, but that's still what she did. Maybe Eric knew," she realizes. "Maybe Eric knew she didn't love him, and that's one of the things that led him to cheat."  
  
"That doesn't make it okay," Michael points out.  
  
"I know," Sydney says quietly. "But sometimes, I mean, when somebody hurts you--"  
  
"--You want to hurt them back," Michael finishes. "I know. I think their divorce was a bit more complicated then we made it out to be."  
  
"I think divorce always is," Sydney agrees. "We don't know, we don't think about it, because we're living in this perfect little bubble--"  
  
"It's not exactly perfect," Michael points out.  
  
"It's pretty great, though."  
  
Michael smiles. "Yeah," he says softly. "It's pretty great." He pulls over to the side of the street, and he leans over to kiss her.  
  
"Why are we stopping?" Emily chirps. "Oh, are we going to McDonald's? Can we go to McDonald's?" she asks, pointing at the golden arches rising in the distance.  
  
"You must be hungry," Sydney says, smiling at her daughter. "Sure, we can drive through and get you something."  
  
Michael looks at her in amazement. "Sydney Vaughn, willingly feeding her daughter grease? And, in all probability, red meat?"  
  
"Anything she wants," Sydney responds, settling back against her seat. "The poor little darling's been through a lot tonight."  
  
"So has her mommy," Michael says, brushing hair back from her face in concern. "Which reminds me, I have a surprise for you back at the hotel."  
  
Sydney's eyes light up. "A surprise?" She frowns. "But, Michael, I promised you earlier that I'd give you a proper thank you tonight," she says, leaning over to kiss him lightly.  
  
"You'll get your chance." Michael kisses her once more, then turns to look at the kids in the backseat. "McDonald's, then?"  
  
"Yeah!" Emily cries.  
  
"Did you get enough to eat, Jack?" Michael asks his son. "Do you want an ice cream cone or something?"  
  
Jack's eyes light up. "I want a Coke."  
  
"You got it." Michael kisses his wife one more time before pulling away from the curb. "Love you, Syd."  
  
"I love you, too," she says, smiling contentedly. "Oh, and Mike?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
Her smile widens. "I'm excited about getting our place in Jamaica."  
  
His eyes light up like a little boy's. "Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
As far as she is concerned, any place she and her family can keep their perfect little bubble intact is okay with her.   
  



	32. Part ThirtyTwo

****

Part Thirty-two  
  
Sydney, Michael, Jack, and Emily sit on the floor of the sitting room of their hotel suite that night; Emily munches away on her Happy Meal while Jack slurps his Coke and Sydney eats her pasta. Michael sits behind Sydney, rubbing her shoulders and back, and she closes her eyes contentedly, pushing her plate away as she leans against him.  
  
"You don't want more?" he asks.  
  
"I couldn't eat another bite," she assures him, forking up a bite and feeding it to him.  
  
"Mmm," he says. He eats the pasta, then kisses her soundly.   
  
"I can't believe we're lounging around like this in our clothes," she sighs. "Em, darling, are you almost done? Are you ready to put your jammies on?"  
  
"With the fishies?" Emily sounds so excited that Sydney can't help but long for the days when a Happy Meal and getting to sleep in her favorite pajamas erased all the bad that had happened in a day-- though she must admit that a couple of hours with Michael and the kids does almost the same for her now.  
  
"With the fishies," Sydney confirms. Michael goes to work getting rid of the fast food wrappers while Sydney finds Emily's pajamas and takes her to the bathroom to change and brush her teeth.   
  
By the time they make their way to the room Emily is sharing with Jack, Jack is already in bed, and Michael is asking him, "Hey, buddy, were you there when Nick…upset Emily?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Did what he said bother you, too?"  
  
"Nah," Jack says, shaking his head. "Nick's an idiot."  
  
"Yes, he is," Michael agrees.  
  
"Michael!" Sydney gasps, but she barely conceals a smile. "He's not an idiot, Jack," she tells her son, as Emily runs and hurls herself onto the bed. "He said an idiotic thing because he feels bad about his dad, and that's different."  
  
"He's still mean," Jack counters.  
  
Emily sits up, appraising her parents seriously. "Did Nick's daddy leave a-cause Nick was bad?"  
  
"No, sweetie," Sydney assures her, brushing her hair back from her face. "He left because of things that happened between him and Nick's mommy."  
  
Emily considers this. "So if you're good, Mommy, then Daddy won't leave?"  
  
Sydney lets out a burst of laughter. "Daddy and I _both_ have to be good. To each other."  
  
"Oh." A troubled frown crosses Emily's little face. "I don't know what that means."  
  
Michael smiles. "It means that your mommy and I love each other very much and you're never getting rid of either of us."  
  
"Oh!" Emily beams. "Good. I love you, Daddy."  
  
"Love you, too." Both Sydney and Michael exchange kisses and I love yous with Jack and Emily, then they return to the sitting room, where Grace's playpen is set up. Their youngest daughter dozes peacefully; Sydney and Michael gaze down at her for a moment.  
  
"Three sleeping children," Michael murmurs. "What are we going to do now?"  
  
"Mmm," Sydney says, looping her arms around Michael's waist. "I believe you said something about a surprise?"  
  
He smiles. "This way, my dear," he says, taking her hand and leading her to their room. "Sit down," he instructs, guiding her to sit on the bed.  
  
"Michael, what--"  
  
"Shh," he interrupts, kissing her lightly. He moves to the closet and reappears a moment later with a gift-wrapped box, one large enough to hold a winter coat.  
  
"Michael," Sydney gasps. "How did you get that on the plane without me knowing it?"  
  
"I didn't. I packed what's inside, and wrapped it this afternoon while you were napping."  
  
"You did a nice job," she says, admiring the wrapping. "Mike, you didn't have to get me a present."  
  
"Does that mean you don't want it?"  
  
"Of course not," she says, so quickly they both laugh.  
  
"Open it," he encourages.  
  
She obliges, and gasps when she sees the contents. The box is filled with baby things-- a yellow receiving blanket, sleepers to fit a newborn, a book with ideas for decorating a nursery. She pulls out a terry cloth crib toy shaped like a duck; when she pulls the cord at the bottom, it plays a lullaby. "Michael," she says tearfully. "It's adorable, wonderful, all of it."  
  
"Keep looking," he encourages. "You haven't seen everything."  
  
She continues sifting through the box and finds a baby book, a beautiful silver picture frame with the word "Baby" engraved across the bottom, and a silver rattle, which she sees is also engraved. "_To the newest little Vaughn_," she reads in a whisper. "_Love Mom, Dad, Jack, Emily, and Grace._" She feels a lump rise in her throat. "Michael." Finding herself unable to say anything else, she simply throws her arms around his neck.  
  
"You like it?"  
  
"Oh, Michael, I love it. I love everything," she says, squeezing him tight. "But why-- I mean, it's so soon, and--"  
  
"Well, I started buying things the day after you told me you were pregnant-- can you believe that was only, what, two weeks ago? Less? The day after you took the pregnancy test, when you were--"  
  
"Totally freaking out," Sydney finishes, smiling ruefully. "It's okay, you can say it."  
  
"You were worried and overwhelmed, which was completely understandable," Michael corrects.  
  
Sydney rolls her eyes. "Darling, I have to tell you, I'm still feeling more than a little worried and overwhelmed."  
  
"I know." Michael nods seriously. "And I know that being pregnant isn't easy, or fun."  
  
"Actually, you have no idea," Sydney says with a half-smile.  
  
"Well, I can imagine," he corrects himself, reaching out to touch her stomach. "But with Jack, Emily, and Grace, you were always so excited planning for the new baby that I don't think you minded so much. And I know this time is different," he says in a rush, before she can say anything. "I know we didn't plan for little Sam or Maggie, and I know we just did all of this with Grace-- decorating the nursery, shopping, getting ready-- but I still want this to be a really wonderful time. You deserve it, and so does the baby. You said it really well when we were at Kerri's, how we would have to make sure that Grace and all of our children feel special. And I know that buying some clothes and toys and having a rattle engraved doesn't begin to prepare us for another child, but--"  
  
"But it helps us get excited, and helps us remember all of the wonderful things about having a baby, instead of just focusing on the hard parts," Sydney finishes, tears glistening in her eyes. "Thank you so much, Michael. This was very sweet."  
  
"I-- know sometimes you must get frustrated with me, like the night you told me, and you were so--"   
  
"Freaked out," Sydney supplies.  
  
"Whatever," Michael rolls his eyes. "And I was already picking out names and mentally painting the nursery--"  
  
"That was very sweet," Sydney assures him. "I just couldn't exactly appreciate it just then."  
  
"Well, I just wanted to let you know, that even if I don't seem very sensitive sometimes, I really do want to make this easier for you. Anything you want or need, just name it."  
  
Sydney can't ever remember feeling so touched. She wonders what she ever did to deserve this wonderful man. "I can't believe you dragged all of this stuff to LA and managed to hide it from me for almost two days."  
  
"I had a feeling you might need a little pick-me-up while we were here," Michael says with a slight smile. "I wished that I had wrapped it earlier, so I could have given it to you last night after we got back from your father's."  
  
"Tonight was better," Sydney says.  
  
"Tonight was better," he agrees.  
  
She can't think of anything better to say than, "I love you." She captures his lips in a kiss; when she tries to deepen it, he pulls away. "Michael--"  
  
"Presents first," he says with a smile. "Then thank you."  
  
"But you already gave me presents," she says, bewildered.  
  
"One more." He moves to the closet again and emerges with another, smaller box.  
  
"You're going to spoil me rotten," she chides, shaking her head.  
  
"Nothing you don't deserve," he responds, dropping a kiss on her cheek. "Open it."  
  
She tears open the box and pulls out a satiny nightgown in an absolutely gorgeous shade of blue. "I don't own anything this color," she muses, fingering the expensive fabric.  
  
"I know," he says, pushing her hair aside to plant kisses on her neck. "It's exquisite, isn't it? I think it'll look beautiful on you."  
  
"Mmm, I get it," she breathes, gasping as he kisses a sensitive spot on her collarbone. "The other presents were a bribe to get me into this."  
  
"Not at all," he says smoothly, unfastening the zipper of her dress. "I bought it to remind you how amazing and sexy you are, and how wild you drive your husband."  
  
"Do I?" she asks playfully, sucking lightly on the cleft in his chin. "Because my husband drives me pretty wild, too."  
  
"Does he?"  
  
"Absolutely." She pushes him away rather roughly, so that he falls back on the bed. He looks up at her, eyes full of surprise. And something else.  
  
"So, Mr. Vaughn," she purrs, a challenge in her eyes. "Are you ready to receive your proper thank you?"   
  
  



	33. Part ThirtyThree

****

Part Thirty-three  
  
Sydney reaches for her husband when she wakes up the next morning, only to find herself reaching for empty space. "Michael," she groans, opening her eyes to find his side of the bed empty. She fumbles for her nightgown, which is tangled up with the sheets, and has just managed to pull it over her head when Michael appears with Grace.  
  
"Angel girl," Sydney says with a grin, reaching out for her daughter. Michael hands the smiling baby to her, then joins them in bed. "How's Gracie this morning? How's Mommy's little girl?" Sydney coos, brushing her daughter's hair back from her face.  
  
"Full and happy," Michael reports. "I just gave her her breakfast."  
  
"Why didn't I hear her wake up?" Sydney asks with a frown.  
  
"You were out cold," Michael tells her, kissing her forehead fondly. "Besides, I was already up."  
  
"I can't believe you didn't sleep later after last night," Sydney murmurs. A glance at the clock by the bed tells her that it is seven a.m. "Seriously, Michael…"   
  
He kisses her gently. "You were so--" she watches as he searches for the right word, finally settling for, "Incredible."  
  
"Not as incredible as you," she responds silkily, planting a light kiss on his neck.  
  
"Want to put the kid back to bed?" he asks, his voice low. "See if I can--"  
  
"Morning!" Emily chirps, flying through the open door and landing on the bed. "Ooh, Gracie's up! Has she had her breakfast? Did she have a bottle or baby food? Can I feed her breakfast?"  
  
"You can help feed her something later," Sydney promises. Usually, she finds it exhausting, how cheerful Emily is first thing in the morning, but today she's just happy that her daughter doesn't seem to be dwelling on what happened at Kerri's house.  
  
"At Grammy's?" Emily asks, eyes lighting up. "We're going to see Grammy today, aren't we?"  
  
"We sure are, sweetheart," Sydney tells her. "And you didn't have a bath last night, little miss, so Mommy's going to give you one now, okay?"  
  
"And then can I put on my green dress with the froggies on it? Did we bring my green dress with the froggies?"  
  
"We did," Sydney confirms. "And of course you can wear it." She hands Grace to Michael. "Take this one," she tells him. "Get her dressed. The lime green dress, okay?"  
  
"With the watermelon on it?"  
  
"No, that one's yellow. Never mind, I'll do it after Em's ready." Sydney swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands, throwing a robe on over her nightgown. "Don't worry about getting Jack up till Em's out of the tub, and then he'll need a bath, too."  
  
"Oh, hey, my mom called." Michael and Grace follow Sydney and Emily to the bathroom, where Sydney begins running the water.  
  
"Already?"  
  
"Why do you think I woke up so early?"  
  
"She always did have great timing." Sydney rolls her eyes as she tests the water.  
  
"Grammy called?" Emily chirps.  
  
"Yes, princess. Anyway, Syd, she--"  
  
"Why didn't you let me talk?" Emily persists.  
  
"Because you were asleep. So--"  
  
"Michael, can you tell me later?" Sydney asks, dropping a kiss on his cheek. "Be a darling and go get Emily's dress with the frogs on it. It's in her pink suitcase, don't wake up Jack when you get it out of their room. And the dress might need ironed."  
  
Sydney bathes Emily in record time, most of which Emily spends singing her ABC's at the top of her lungs; she wraps her in a towel and nearly bumps into Michael on her way out of the bathroom. He's holding a dress in one hand.  
  
"In what universe are those frogs?" Sydney asks exasperatedly.  
  
"It's green."  
  
"The _turtles_ are green, the dress is pink. Do you want to wear your turtle dress, Emily?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I didn't think so. Never mind, Michael. Get Jack up and run his bath."  
  
"Okay, but before I forget," Michael says, following them to Jack and Emily's room, where Sydney begins rifling through Emily's suitcase.  
  
"Rise and shine, Jackie!" Emily shrieks, pouncing on the bed. Of course her hair is still wet, and of course water flies everywhere.  
  
"Emily," Sydney winces.  
  
"He had to get up anyway," Michael points out with a smile. "Anyway, Mom called and she says she's making those veggie kabob things--"  
  
"She actually said _veggie kabob things_?" Sydney asks with a smile. "See? Green. Frogs," she says, waving the dress in front of him.  
  
"Got it," Michael rolls his eyes. "Anyway, so she's making those veggie kabob things you made two years ago for the fourth of July barbecue, and she wants us to stop and pick up a squash on our way over to her place. She said you'd know what kind."  
  
"Em," Jack groans. "Let me go back to sleep."  
  
"No, sweetheart, you need to get up and take a bath," Sydney tells him. "What about eggplant?"  
  
"What?" Michael asks, perplexed.  
  
"Did she remember to get eggplant for the kabobs?"  
  
"I didn't ask about eggplant."  
  
"Call her back and ask if she has eggplant. No, don't worry about it, we'll just pick one up anyway, I'm sure she'll be able to use it even if she already has one."  
  
"Right," Michael says, looking at her as if she has suddenly sprouted another head. "Because we all know how often the average person cooks with eggplant."   
  
Sydney cracks a smile. "Not as often as they should, probably," she jokes, giving him a quick kiss. "Start Jack's bath for him. Please. God, Emily, you're getting water everywhere."  
  
A few hours later, they are at Marguerite's door, clean, dressed, and bearing a shopping bag containing yellow squash, eggplant, and a lemon meringue pie Sydney thought they could have for dessert. Marguerite is thrilled to see them, of course, and she greets the children enthusiastically, immediately taking "the little beautiful one" from Sydney's arms.  
  
"And you brought the squash," she says happily, noting the shopping bag in Michael's arms.  
  
"And dessert," Michael adds. "And eggplant."  
  
"Oh, good, I forgot to buy one of those," Marguerite says, and Michael rolls his eyes. "Michael, darling, be a dear and take the groceries to the kitchen. And could you start the grill for me? I just bought the thing and haven't a clue how to work it. Sydney," she says, turning to smile at her daughter-in-law. "Oh, you look so pretty, darling. How's the new little one treating you?" she asks, placing a perfectly manicured hand on Sydney's stomach. Sydney would have felt weird if her father had done the same; when Marguerite does it, it feels strangely natural.  
  
"So far, so good," Sydney tells her.  
  
"His name is Sam, Grammy," Emily tells her, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.  
  
"Well, look at you," Marguerite says, turning her attention to her oldest granddaughter. "Bouncing up and down like the froggies on your dress. Whose name is Sam, sweetheart?"  
  
"The new baby!"  
  
"We don't know yet if it's going to be a boy, of course," Sydney assures her.  
  
"And if it's a girl," Michael adds, returning from the balcony of Marguerite's apartment, where the grill is located. "We thought we'd call her Maggie. For Marguerite."  
  
Marguerite's mouth drops open. She closes it, and her eyes fill with tears.  
  
"It was Sydney's idea," Michael tells her.  
  
"Well, I'm-- I'm very touched," Marguerite says with a tearful smile. "Thank you, Sydney. Both of you."  
  
Emily looks troubled. "I want it to be a boy, though."  
  
Marguerite laughs. "Well, if it is, then that's just fine! You'll have a handsome little brother named Sam. Come with me, sweetheart, Grandma's got a little surprise for you. You too, Jack."  
  
"Mom, you don't have to give them presents every time you see them," Michael chides.  
  
"But I see them so seldom, since you moved them all the way across the country," Marguerite says innocently.  
  
"Mom--"   
  
The doorbell rings at the exact second the word comes out of his mouth.  
  
"Get that, will you, darling?" Marguerite asks sweetly.  
  
"Who are you expecting?" Michael asks with a frown.  
  
"I ran into-- oh, just get the door. Don't leave the poor man standing out there all day," Marguerite says, waving her hand dismissively as she hurries off with the children.  
  
"Who would she have invited?" Michael asks, bewildered.  
  
"I don't know, darling," Sydney teases. "But don't let the poor man stand out there all day."  
  
Michael rolls his eyes and moves to answer the door. Sydney is about to go to the kitchen to start chopping up the squash and eggplant when she hears Michael greet Marguerite's guest.  
  
"Jack. This is a surprise."  



	34. Part ThirtyFour

****

Part Thirty-four  
  
"I-- ran into Marguerite a couple of hours ago when I was buying coffee and she invited me," Sydney hears her father say. "May I--"  
  
"Please. Come in," Michael says hastily. Sydney stops on her journey to the kitchen and turns to greet him.  
  
"Hi, Dad," she says weakly.  
  
"Hello, Sydney."  
  
"Did you say buying coffee?" Sydney asks, bewildered. "Because this is nowhere near your neighborhood, what were you--"  
  
"I buy my coffee beans from a shop around the corner," Jack says, looking a little embarrassed.  
  
"Best in town, aren't they, Jack?" Marguerite sings, returning to the room with Jack and Emily in tow, Grace on her hip. "I'm glad you could make it."  
  
"Thank you. I, uh, picked up some pasta salad from a deli near my house," he says, holding out a plastic container. "It's very good." Sydney has rarely seen him look more uncomfortable. No, that's not true. He looked just as uncomfortable at Sydney and Michael's engagement party, at the party they'd thrown after Grace was born-- basically at any occasion that has ever required him to be social.  
  
"Thank you, Jack," Marguerite says, taking the container from him with her free hand. "I'll put it in the fridge until it's time to each. Sydney, darling, will you give me a hand in the kitchen? Here, Gracie. Go to your grandfather." She hands the child to Sydney's father, then turns back toward the kitchen, leaving Emily and Jack to show their daddy and grampy the presents Grammy gave them.  
  
"Now, all of the vegetables except for the eggplant and squash have been cut up," Marguerite trills as she begins removing Tupperware containers from the fridge and putting them on the counter. "We just need to arrange them on the skewers and grill them. And we have your father's salad, and the potatoes are baking--"  
  
"Why did you invite him, Marguerite?" Sydney blurts, doing her best to keep her voice low.  
  
"Well, why shouldn't I, dear?" Marguerite asks, getting out a cutting board and a knife and handing them to Sydney. "I ran into him a couple of hours ago and mentioned that you and Michael were bringing the children over. Why shouldn't he have another chance to see the little ones before you head back to New York?"  
  
Sydney sighs. "I just wish you'd have warned me that he was coming. I don't feel very prepared to see him."  
  
"I didn't run into him until after I spoke to Michael." Marguerite looks completely bewildered, as if she can't fathom what the big deal is. "And you shouldn't have to prepare to see your own father."  
  
"Surely you're not that clueless."  
  
Marguerite looks at her, clearly surprised and wounded.  
  
"I'm sorry, Marguerite, I didn't mean that the way it sounded," Sydney apologizes. "But you've known me for years now. Surely you know that things are hardly perfect between my father and I. The other night, we had our first civil meal together in a long time, and it was only civil because both of us spent the entire night walking on eggshells."  
  
"Well, things are hardly going to get better with the man by avoiding him," Marguerite says crisply, handing Sydney the eggplant and squash.   
  
"I know they won't," Sydney sighs, going to work slicing the vegetables. "But you don't understand. He completely disapproves of the way I live my life, he--"  
  
"Let's not make this more than it is, Sydney," Marguerite cuts in. "It's lunch with your father, your mother-in-law, your husband, and your children. That's all it needs to be. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go offer my guests something to drink."  
  
She has been gone approximately thirty seconds when Sydney feels strong hands on her waist, and she turns and lets Michael wrap his arms around her.  
  
"You okay?" he asks, his voice low.  
  
"I'm fine," Sydney sighs. "Your mother's right. I'm making this into a bigger deal than it needs to be. The other night went okay, right?"  
  
"Right," Michael agrees. "Just the same, I know you were looking forward to just having a day where you could relax. I'm sorry that's not the case."  
  
"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now," Sydney responds, smiling up at him. "I love you."  
  
"I love you, too," Michael says with a smile. "Hey, you already missed one of the best moments of the day."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Emily showed your father the gift my mother gave her."  
  
Sydney regards him curiously. "What did she give her? One of those toy vacuum cleaners? A play oven?" she asks, trying to imagine gifts her father would find objectionable.  
  
"You're on the right track," Michael confirms. "She got her a baby doll, and it has a little cloth diaper you can take on and off, and bottles you can feed it, and everything. I think Mom is having these adorable visions of her sitting down to feed it when you feed the new baby, changing it's diaper when you change the new baby's diaper, that sort of thing."  
  
"That's really sweet," Sydney says with a smile.  
  
"Yeah, well, from the look on your father's face, Emily's getting a doctor's kit for her birthday. Or a science kit or something of the like."  
  
Sydney sighs. "How many hours till we're back in New York?"  
  
"Less than twenty-four," Michael tells her, kissing the top of her head. "Do you need help?"  
  
"Grab a knife and start chopping," Sydney responds with a smile.  
  
Everyone helps to get lunch ready-- Jack and Emily set the table, Sydney's father fills glasses with lemonade and iced tea, Michael mans the grill, and Marguerite flits around getting things out of the oven and giving directions-- and before long, the seven of them are seated around Marguerite's dining room table.  
  
"I'll bet you're not looking forward to the flight tomorrow, Sydney and Michael," Marguerite says, once they have all served themselves and begun eating.  
  
"Anything that gets us back to New York," Sydney whispers to Michael, and Michael laughs. Out loud, she says, "It's not such a bad flight, Marguerite, though we do have to change planes once, which is always kind of a hassle."  
  
"Have you booked Jack's and my flight to New York for Emily's birthday, Michael?" Marguerite asks.  
  
"I haven't booked yours yet, Mom," Michael responds. "Jack already has his ticket, right, Jack?"  
  
"Yes," Sydney's father responds, taking a sip of his iced tea.  
  
"I don't understand," Marguerite says with a frown. "I thought you were flying us out together, Michael."  
  
"I was planning to, but--"  
  
"I made my own arrangements earlier, Marguerite," Jack cuts in.  
  
"But why?" Marguerite persists. "Didn't Michael tell you he was flying us out together?"  
  
"I decided to make my own arrangements," Jack says, in a tone that would indicate to most people that the conversation is over.  
  
"I don't see why," Marguerite says, bewildered. "It would be so much more convenient for us to arrive at the same time, and who knows if there are even seats left on your flight. Is your ticket refundable?"  
  
"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of taking care of my own travel arrangements, Marguerite," Jack snaps.  
  
"This isn't about capability," Marguerite says, aghast. "This is about my son and your daughter inviting us into their home and coming up with a way to get us there that works best for everyone, and--"  
  
"Please don't try and tell me that your son knows what's best for everyone. He's taken my college educated daughter and made her into a nanny and a housekeeper, for God's sake."  
  
The silence that follows his words is deafening. It is Michael who finally breaks it. "Jack, I did not--"  
  
"Michael, don't," Sydney says softly, shaking her head. "This isn't about you. It's never been about you."  
  
"Oh, I think it's a little bit about him," Marguerite says icily. "It's about--"  
  
"No, it's not about him," Sydney cuts in firmly. "It's something my father's been wanting to say for years." She directs her attention to her father. "I hope you're happy now that you've finally gotten that off your chest." She rises from the table, shooting a quick smile at Marguerite. "Excuse me."   



	35. Part ThirtyFive

****

Part Thirty-five  
  
"Sit down, Sydney," her father says, his voice quietly regretful.  
  
"Why?" Sydney demands. "You want a reaction?" She shakes her head. "I'm tired, Dad. I'm tired of having to constantly defend my life, my husband, my choices to someone who doesn't even try to understand. You know what? I shouldn't have to defend anything to you."  
  
"Sydney--"  
  
"And to be honest, it's hard to say what I would react to, since it's hard to say what part of what you just said I find the most objectionable." In spite of her best efforts, her voice starts to rise, and tears come to her eyes. "You said that he _made me into_ something, as if I have no mind of my own and can be made into anything anyone wants me to be. That must be the case, right, Dad, because there's no way that your daughter would willingly become-- how did you put it? _A housekeeper and a nanny._ There's no way in hell that any daughter of yours could possibly enjoy cutting her little girl's sandwiches into triangles and changing diapers and getting all dressed up to go to her husband's parties and--"  
  
"And playing the trophy," her father spits out. Somewhere in the back of her mind, it occurs to Sydney that they should take this conversation somewhere else, or that Marguerite should take the children away. But everyone just sits there, frozen, as if they are watching a movie they can't stop and can't walk out on. "Having people compliment you on how pretty you look and congratulate your husband on doing such a good job choosing a wife. Don't you miss being congratulated for your own accomplishments, Sydney?"  
  
"Wait a minute--" Michael tries to cut in angrily, but neither Sydney nor Jack even hears him.  
  
"I don't need to be congratulated for anything," Sydney shoots back. "I need to know that Emily has a story read to her before her afternoon nap, and that Jack is picked up from school right at three o'clock, and that Grace is clean and dry and happy. I need to know that Emily likes her sandwiches cut into triangles and that Jack likes his just in half. I need to take Emily and Grace for a walk to the park every day after lunch, and I need to be there to wipe away tears and clean up messes and kiss my babies' ouchies and make them better. _That's_ what I need, Dad. Maybe it's because of my compulsion to do everything myself, or maybe it's because you were never there when I was a kid, I don't know. But that's what I need, and that's what I want, and that's what makes me happy."  
  
A long silence follows her words. "Are you done?" her father asks after a moment.  
  
"Yeah, I guess I am," Sydney says, sinking weakly back down to her chair.  
  
"Good," her father says, standing and tossing his napkin on the table. "Then I think it's best that I leave."  
  
"Yeah, I think it's best that you do," Sydney agrees.  
  
He says awkward goodbyes to Marguerite and Michael, smiles sadly at the children, and walks out.  
  
Sydney can't help but wonder if it's the last time she'll ever see him.   



	36. Part ThirtySix

****

Part Thirty-six  
  
The Vaughns sit in silence for a moment after Jack leaves. Of course, Emily is the one to break it.  
  
"What's a housekeeper and nanny?" she asks, her little face troubled.  
  
Sydney sighs. The entire exchange had lasted only a few minutes; in the heat of the moment, she hadn't thought of the repercussions of what her children were hearing. Now, she wished badly that someone had taken them out of the room. "A housekeeper is someone who cleans houses," she tells Emily. "And a nanny is someone who takes care of children."  
  
"Oh." A beat. "Is it bad to clean houses and take care of kids?"  
  
"No, sweetheart."  
  
"A-cause Grampy made it sound like it was bad," Emily insists. She's right. Sydney's father had spit out the words _housekeeper_ and _nanny_ in the same tone of voice he would have used to say the word _whore_. _Don't forget trophy,_ Sydney thinks bitterly. She wonders why he didn't go one step further and call her Michael's slave. Clearly, that's what he thinks.  
  
"It's not bad," Sydney says firmly. "Your grandfather just thinks we should hire someone to clean our house and take care of you so that I can go to work, like your daddy." Was she telling her too much? She hated that she had to even have this conversation.  
  
"I don't want you to go to work like Daddy." Emily looks absolutely horrified.  
  
"I'm not going to," Sydney assures her.  
  
"Don't you have to do what your daddy says?"  
  
"No, because I'm an adult."  
  
"When will I be an adult?"  
  
"He shouldn't tell you what to do," Jack speaks up, looking just as troubled as his younger sister. "And he shouldn't say bad things about Dad."  
  
"Look, don't worry about what he said," Sydney says. She wants nothing more than to put an end to this. "All you two need to know is that your grandfather loves you very, very much, okay?" She turns accusing eyes on Marguerite. "Why did you have to press him about the flight arrangements?"  
  
Marguerite regards her coolly. "At first I merely assumed there had been a misunderstanding, since Michael had made it clear that he intended to buy our tickets. Then it became quite evident that he found Michael's offer to buy the ticket insulting, and I simply wanted him to admit it," she says. "It's very simple, Sydney. Money equals power to your father. The way he sees it, Michael supports you financially, therefore he controls you."  
  
"Oh, that's what his problem is?" Sydney snaps. "Thank you so much for clearing that up."  
  
"It's not her fault that he feels the way he does, Sydney," Michael speaks up for the first time. And, for the first time since the argument with her father began, Sydney realizes the impact her father's words must have had on him. "And anyway," he continues. "It's not like there isn't some truth to what he said."  
  
Sydney gapes at him. "Oh, really?" she responds incredulously. "Which part did you agree with? The part where he implied that I have no mind of my own, or the part where he diminished my role in your life to that of a servant or a possession?"  
  
"I didn't--" Michael breaks off, glancing at the children. "Let's not do this here."  
  
"Fine." Sydney rises and follows him to Marguerite's guest bedroom; he closes the door behind them.  
  
"Nothing your father says about you is true," he says firmly once they're alone. "You are definitely more than capable of thinking for yourself, and he has a really skewed idea of motherhood if he would dare call you a housekeeper and a nanny. I should have punched him for saying that."  
  
"I'm glad that you didn't," Sydney says with a half-smile. "And I hope you understand why I cut you off when you tried to talk. His problem is with me, not you."  
  
"No, Sydney," Michael says softly, the pain visible in his green eyes. He runs a hand back through his hair. "He definitely has a problem with me. He thinks I hold you back." He sighs. "Maybe I do."  
  
"How can you say that?" Sydney asks, horrified.  
  
Michael sinks down on the bed, biting his lower lip as if not sure whether to say what's on his mind. "I love it that you stay home with the kids, do you know that?" he asks, his voice low. "You probably think that I don't care whether you work or not, but the truth is, I really love that you don't, at least while the kids are little. Not because I think you're incapable of working, or because I have some antiquated idea that women shouldn't work, but because I just-- feel safer, knowing that the kids are with you, and not some stranger, because I know that you love them more than anything in the world and would never, ever let anything happen to them. And I love it when you stop by my office or call me in the middle of the day and tell me that Emily ate a bug or let it slip to your father that you're having a baby or did some other adorable thing."  
  
Sydney smiles softly. "No nanny would remember to tell us all of the wonderful things she says and does."  
  
"Exactly," Michael says with a smile. She sits next to him on the bed, and he takes her hand and kisses it.  
  
"Liking having your wife home with your kids doesn't make you a horrible person, Mike," Sydney says quietly.  
  
"But is it what you want, Syd?" Michael asks with a worried frown. "Because I know you would never do anything you didn't want to do. But I also know how much you love to make me happy, and I would hate it if you were staying at home just because you thought it was what I wanted. Because if you're miserable, it's not what I want."  
  
"Do I act miserable, Michael?"  
  
"No," Michael says. "Frustrated, sometimes, overwhelmed, sometimes, but never miserable. But your father seems so convinced that you can't possibly be happy that--"  
  
"My father doesn't know anything about me," Sydney says firmly.  
  
Michael sighs. "I also really love that you always come to my parties and dinners looking so beautiful and perfect," he confesses. "I love that you're charming and sweet and that all of my colleagues think you're incredible." He finishes the statement sheepishly, as if he has just confessed to something horrible.  
  
"Good," Sydney says, brushing his hair back from his face fondly. "Because I put a lot of effort into looking beautiful and perfect and making you the envy of your colleagues."  
  
"You don't feel like a trophy?"  
  
"You don't treat me like a trophy, Michael," Sydney says softly. "That's the thing my father doesn't get."  
  
Michael doesn't look convinced. "You bring out the best in me, Sydney. You really do. Before I met you, I always kept my relationships light, casual," he says with a rueful smile. "Don't get me wrong, I loved my father." His smile fades. "But he was always working, and I saw how frustrated and hurt that made my mom. Then I went into law, too, and all of a sudden I was always working, and-- I just didn't know if I was even capable of giving a woman the love and attention she deserved. You changed that." He shakes his head as if to clear the thoughts from it. "Anyway, I'd hate it if I didn't bring out the best in you, too."  
  
"I can't believe you can't see that you do," Sydney says. "After the way my father was, I think it's pretty amazing that I was ever able to open up and love someone at all. And I'm a mother," she says, awed. "The fact that I actually have children that I have, thus far, not profoundly screwed up, is pretty incredible, when you think about it."  
  
"You're an amazing mother," Michael says firmly. "If your father can't see the value in that--" He shakes his head.  
  
Sydney smiles gratefully at him, then stands and reaches out to pull him to his feet. "You ready to go back out there?"  
  
Michael returns her smile. "I love you, Syd. So much."  
  
"I love you, too, Michael."


	37. Part ThirtySeven

"Daddeee!"

"Hey, princess."

Sydney closes her eyes and smiles at the familiar sound. It's Tuesday evening; they arrived back in New York the previous night, and Michael went into the office today like always. It is nice to have things more or less back to normal.

"Today Mommy and Gracie and I looked at wallpaper," Emily chatters away as Michael carries her into the kitchen. "Mommy didn't like any of it, though. She wants to paint Sam's room instead."

"This soon?" Michael asks with a frown, putting Emily down and kissing Sydney's cheek. Emily immediately runs off toward the backyard to see what Jack is doing. "But Syd, I thought we were going to wait till we found out the sex of the baby. Maybe paint the walls blue?"

"Oh, Michael, blue walls would be so gloomy," Sydney says dismissively. "Here. Taste. I used that new Szechuan sauce, do you think I should add more?" she asks, feeding him a spoonful of the rice dish she is preparing.

"Damn," Michael says, nearly spitting out the mouthful. "That's spicy. No, Syd, you definitely shouldn't add more."

"Oh," Sydney says with a frown. "If you think it's too spicy, the kids definitely will. Maybe if I add some more rice, that'll soak some of it up."

"Maybe."

Sydney laughs at the expression on his face. "Or maybe we should heat up a frozen pizza instead. Sorry, babe."

"No big deal," he says with a grin. "But, hey. Maybe completely blue walls would be too gloomy, but maybe we could find some nice wallpaper with blue in it. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"But we won't know the sex of the baby for awhile, and I really want to get started," Sydney frowns, walking to the fridge and taking a frozen pizza from the freezer. "And anyway, Michael, I found this paint in the most gorgeous shade of yellow, it'll make the room look so cheerful. And I thought we could tear up the carpet and strip the floor down to the hardwood, wouldn't that be gorgeous? We should really think of tearing up the carpet in more of the house, actually."

"Not our bedroom, please," Michael grimaces. "I like putting my feet down on carpet in the morning."

"It was just an idea," Sydney says with a shrug. "But the carpet in what will be the new baby's room is really tacky, it has to go one way or the other. Anyway, how was work?"

"The place didn't fall apart while I was gone, if that's what you mean," Michael says with a grimace. "Though I had a stack of paperwork a mile high on my desk this morning. Oh, before I forget," he says. "We're invited to this gallery opening thing on Friday. The artist is the daughter of a client." He pauses, looking suddenly hesitant. "It's probably not that important that we go."

"It might be fun, though," Sydney says, slipping the pizza into the oven. "I hope you're not starving to death. This takes twenty minutes to cook," she says, examining the cooking instructions on the back of the box. "Probably longer, since I didn't preheat the oven." She glances at Michael. "What, don't you want to go?"

"Only if you do." Michael looks terribly uncomfortable. "And buy a new dress, if you feel like it. Not that you need to, you have lots of nice things, but if you want one--"

"Michael, what's gotten into you?" Sydney asks, aghast. Then suddenly, she knows. "Michael, please don't tell me you're still letting what my father said bother you."

"I shouldn't be dragging you to those things all the time, though." Michael looks absolutely miserable. "I was supposed to take you on a quiet night out, just the two of us last Friday, and I took you on that sty trip to California instead."

"I wanted to go on that sty trip to California," Sydney says with a half-smile. "It's not your fault that everyone in Los Angeles who has a problem with me chose this weekend to let me know."

"Well, they don't see you that often." Finally, Michael cracks a smile, too.

Sydney turns off the burner that has been heating her spicy rice concoction. "So I was thinking today that I should call and smooth things over with your mother, but every time I started to I realized that I'm still really pissed at her."

"She didn't mean for things to happen the way they did, Syd," Michael says, his smile fading.

"But she still doesn't even get that she did anything even a little wrong." Sydney shakes her head. "It's not her place to invite my father to dinner, and it's definitely not her place to pursue an argument with him right in front of the kids. Jack's going to hold a grudge against my dad forever, you realize this, don't you?" Sydney crosses her arms and leans against the fridge.

"Maybe he should," Michael says with a shrug. "I know you feel like you're too hard on your dad sometimes, Syd, but you're actually really forgiving, considering."

Sydney sighs. "You know, I've known for years what he thought of me, but now that he's actually put it into words, proved exactly how little he values me and what I do, I think it's going to be even harder for me to be around him. There are just some things you don't say, you know?"

"I know, sweetheart." Michael wraps his arms around her comfortingly.

"And he's made you feel guilty about something as small as asking your wife to be your date at a gallery opening," Sydney says, tears springing to her eyes.

"Syd, I--"

"Don't, Michael," she interrupts firmly. "Don't ever feel guilty for anything. I don't want anything to change between us, okay?"

Unfortunately, she is afraid that things already have.


	38. Part ThirtyEight

Michael excuses himself to go get some work done as soon as they have finished they are eating that night. It isn't unusual for him to do so, especially on his first day back at the office after a few days away. Except he was so quiet during dinner. And he doesn't emerge from his study in time to help Sydney draw the children's baths and put them to bed, something he always does.

"Where's Daddy?" Emily asks with a frown as Sydney helps her into her pajamas-- ones decorated with hearts, this time, instead of fishies.

"He's getting some work done, darling. He missed two days while we were in California."

"I want to say goodnight to Daddy!"

Sydney sighs. "All right, sweetheart. We'll go down to his study, but only for a minute, all right? Daddy's busy."

The words are no sooner out of her mouth than Emily is down the stairs like a shot, hurtling through the door of Michael's study.

"Princess!" Michael exclaims, surprised, as the pajama-clad, wet-haired little girl scurries onto his lap.

"Sorry to interrupt, baby," Sydney says with a slight smile. "She wanted to say goodnight."

"I didn't realize it was so late," Michael says, glancing at his watch.

"What are you working on, Daddy?"

"Just a case, sweetheart," Michael tells his daughter, smoothing a hand over her hair. "One big company's suing another one."

"What does _suing_ mean?"

Sydney watches as her husband describes the legal term in such a way that a girl of not quite four can understand, and it occurs to her that in another lifetime, Michael would have made a good teacher. She sees a flash of herself and Michael, heading off to school together, coming home to a smaller house than the one they have now, grading papers and planning lessons while their children play around them.

It's a nice vision. But not really preferable to the life they are living now. She'd enjoyed teaching once, but she hadn't necessarily loved it, and while she'd thought long and hard before giving it up, when it had come down to it, the decision to quit hadn't really been that difficult, and she's never really regretted it. She has thought about going back to work once the kids are older, but to be honest, she isn't 100 sure what she'll do. She's tossed around the ideas of getting another job teaching high school, or of getting her Master's and teaching a few college courses, but she has no definite plan for restarting her career.

_Maybe I'll never work again,_ she thinks to herself now. _Wouldn't my father love that?_

"Come on, Emily," she tells her daughter. "Let's get you to bed."

"Okay." Emily plants a kiss on her father's cheek. "Goodnight, Daddy. I love you."

"I love you, too, sweetheart."

Emily darts out of the room ahead of Sydney, and Sydney pauses in the doorway. "Are you almost finished, baby?"

Michael smiles weakly. "I've got a lot to catch up on, honey. Don't wait for me to go to bed."

"Okay." There is nothing that strange about this situation, not really. But something feels off to Sydney. "Goodnight. I love you."

"Love you, too."

The next night, Michael comes home a bit later than usual without calling, and Sydney is right there with Emily to greet him at the door. "Why didn't you call?" she demands. "I was worried."

"I'm sorry, baby," he apologizes. "My meeting ran late."

"It's not like you not to call," Sydney insists.

"I'm sorry," he says, a bit irritably. "What else do you want me to say?"

She glares at him. "I hope you like frozen pizza," she snaps. "Your dinner's ruined."

He apologizes later, and of course she accepts, because really, it's not that big of a deal, just like his staying in his study until the wee hours of the morning the night before wasn't that big of a deal. But something is off, and she isn't sure what to do about it. Is this really how he's going to deal with her father's accusations? By distancing himself from her-- in essence, becoming the man her father thinks he is?

He has dinner with a client Thursday night, something that he does fairly often; this particular dinner meeting has been planned for a couple of weeks. With the way things have been the past few days, though, Sydney doesn't particularly appreciate the time alone. She goes to bed early, soon after she puts the kids down, and thrashes restlessly while unpleasant pictures flash through her mind.

She pictures herself in the kitchen, animatedly telling Michael about something Emily did that day. Only he doesn't smile, doesn't laugh, doesn't sweep their daughter into his arms and tease her. He only nods, a blank look in his eyes, and tells her he doesn't feel like dinner, that he has a lot of work to do.

She pictures herself at one of Michael's parties, as beautiful and perfect as ever. But he doesn't tell her how amazing she looks, doesn't whisper in her ear that he can't wait to get her home and do ungodly things to her. Instead, he interacts with her solemnly, humorlessly, and when they go home that night, they don't kiss until their lungs ache, don't tear each other's clothes off as soon as they are in the privacy of their bedroom. She puts on a satiny nightgown and arranges herself on the bed seductively. He doesn't even notice.

She has never found her life unfulfilling, but God, she realizes that it could be, if Michael were different.

She pictures him with another woman, a younger woman, a woman who truly is a trophy in every sense of the word, a woman whose happiness Michael doesn't care about at all, a woman whose true purpose is to serve him and obey his every whim, and who derives no pleasure from doing things that make him happy.

She pictures herself with another man, a man who pampers her and spoils her and gives her every material thing she could ever want but doesn't love her.

And before she knows it, she is lying in bed sobbing, deep, shattering sobs that leave her breathless, the kind she hasn't cried since she was a little girl. And all of a sudden Michael is there, panicked at seeing her like this, climbing into bed with her with his clothes and shoes still on, holding her. "Shh, baby, don't cry, please don't cry, I can't stand it when you cry," he croons, rocking her back and forth as if she is a small child. She finally quiets down, and he continues rocking her, soothing her, placing tender kisses on the top of her head. "Syd, honey, what's wrong?" he whispers. "What's got you so upset?"

"Michael, I--"

She can't find the words. Doesn't know what to say. Because nothing is wrong, not really, not yet. He worked too late one night. Forgot to call the next. Behaved a little distantly towards her for a few days. None of those things are a big deal, not really.

But she is seeing things when she is awake that are scarier and more real than any of the nightmares she has ever had. And she's terrified.


	39. Part ThirtyNine

Sydney tells Michael that her tears are nothing, that she's just feeling very emotional, which is mostly true. It isn't as if he's done anything that she can call him on; it's more just a feeling she has.

"Are you sure?" he asks, brushing her hair back from her face, brow knitted in concern.

"I'm sure," she says, wiping her tears away with the heel of her hand.

"What can I do to make you feel better, sweetie?" His face is so earnest, so concerned.

_Just stay you,_ she thinks. _Keep being my strong, wonderful husband who adores me and takes care of me and knows that he makes me as happy as I make him._ But when she looks at him, words fail her. "Just hold me," she whispers. "And let me fall asleep in your arms."

"Of course, baby."

He doesn't even pull away from her long enough to undress, just stays there with her all night in his rumpled suit. For once, he's still there in bed when she wakes, though a glance at her clock tells her it is past six a.m. "Michael," she murmurs, shaking him gently. "Didn't you hear your alarm? You'd better get up."

"s," he murmurs, rising groggily. "I forgot to turn it on last night." He looks down at his rumpled suit in confusion; his face clears when he looks at her, as if he suddenly remembers why such things as getting undressed and setting the alarmed seemed unimportant to him the night before. "Are you okay, baby?"

"I'm fine," she says, forcing a smile. "Now hurry and jump in the shower. You're going to miss your train into the city."

He nods, not looking a hundred percent sure. Then Gracie cries, and Sydney moves to go get her up, and he takes that as his cue to follow her instructions.

By the time he comes downstairs, clean and in a fresh suit, Grace has finished her bottle and is settled in her playpen in the kitchen. Sydney offers her husband a thermos of coffee, something she rarely does-- she's usually barely awake by the time he leaves.

"Thanks, babe," he says, looking surprised. "You're so sweet." He leans over to kiss her, quickly; she grabs his tie and pulls him in for a real kiss.

"What was that?" he asks with a laugh when they part.

"I don't know," she says a bit shyly. "I've just-- I've missed you this week."

His eyes flash with surprise. "I'm busy lots of weeks, Syd," he says-- not defensively, but as if he truly is surprised she missed him.

"I know," she says, brushing imaginary lint from his lapel. "You just-- you don't have to work too much this weekend, do you?"

"I'm sure I'll have to go in for awhile in the morning," he says apologetically. "Not long, I promise. I can't wait to just kick back and relax with you and the kids all weekend."

"Really?" She knows a ridiculously large grin is spreading over her face, but she can't do anything to stop it.

"Syd! Why do you sound so surprised?" he laughs, leaning in to kiss her.

"No reason. I don't know." She shakes her head, suddenly feeling as if her worries, her crying spell the night before, were utterly ridiculous. "And we're still going to the gallery opening tonight, right?"

He looks down at his feet. _Aha,_ Sydney thinks. _The guilt rears its ugly head._ "We don't have to go, Syd--"

"Sure we do," she says, trying to keep her tone light. "I already bought a dress. You'll love it, Michael. The color is similar to the nightgown you gave me last weekend." She brushes a quick kiss across his neck. "Maybe I'll get a chance to wear that later, too, hmm?"

He smiles, a little shyly. "I'd like that," he says, his voice soft.

The look they share is charged with all of the emotions they have been feeling for the past week. Uncertainty. Questions. But most of all, hope that maybe things don't have to change. At least not in the ways that either of them have feared.

"I think-- I think tonight might actually be fun," Michael tells her, his voice so sweet and hopeful she wants to cry. "It'll mostly be different people than we usually see, and I hear that this artist does some really interesting work."

"Maybe we'll even see something we want to buy," Sydney comments. "We still have so many bare walls here."

"Yeah, maybe." He leans over to capture her lips in a quick, spontaneous kiss. "You're so great. I love you."

"I love you, too," she says, her voice full of feeling.

He smiles, then glances at his watch, eyes widening in alarm. "Shit, I've really gotta go. Love you, Syd. Love you, Gracie." He picks his daughter up for a quick kiss before he runs out the door.

Sydney hums to herself as she picks up Gracie and goes to wake Jack up so he can get ready for school.

Actually, she feels like singing.


	40. Part Forty

Sydney has just put Emily and Grace down for naps that afternoon when the phone rings. Sydney winces, snatching it up before it has a chance to wake either of her girls. "Hello?"

"Sydney?"

Sydney sighs. "Hello, Marguerite."

"I was just calling to see that you all made it back to New York safely, and to see how your week went."

Sydney fumes silently. Of course, after all but insisting that she and her father air out all of their issues on Sunday, now Marguerite's going to skate over the fact that Sydney is still angry at her. "The week was a little tense, Marguerite," she says, her voice clipped. "My father's comments have Michael feeling guilty about our entire lifestyle, and he's spent the entire week burying himself in work as a result."

"Well, that's silly," Marguerite says, her tone dismissive. "Avoiding a problem has never done anyone any good."

"Avoiding a problem, no," Sydney responds coolly. "But throwing a problem in someone's face and pushing them until they explode doesn't exactly make things peachy, either."

"You and your father needed to talk, Sydney," Marguerite says sternly.

"Maybe," Sydney agrees. "But I could have gone my whole life without his insulting Michael right in front of him, without knowing--" suddenly she finds herself choked up, unable to continue.

There is a long silence on the other end of the line. "You've never talked to me about how bad things are between you and your father, Sydney."

"But you've seen us together," Sydney says, tears blurring her vision.

Another long silence. "I remember the first time I met him," Marguerite says quietly. "At your and Michael's engagement party."

Sydney closes her eyes, remembering the night. An elegant hotel, a catered dinner. She in a black dress with spaghetti straps, Michael in a handsome suit. She'd been absolutely glowing that night, accepting everyone's congratulations.

"You were so happy, on this high," Marguerite echoes her thoughts. "I don't think the smile left your face all night. Except for the moment when your father first approached you."

Tears glisten in Sydney's eyes as she recalls her smile faltering, just for a split second, as her father had approached her and Michael, who had been talking with Marguerite. Part of her had been so happy that he'd come, that he'd wanted to share the night with her. She'd been hopeful that she could introduce him to everyone and everything would be wonderful. He'd be a part of her life, and it would be fantastic.

The other part of her had just wished he'd stayed away and let her have her perfect night.

The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that that is how so many of her encounters with her father have been over the years: her inviting him to events because she feels like she should and then half wishing that he'd just go away. But she'd kept inviting him, kept in touch with him because some part of her had wished she could have a relationship with her father, and a bigger of her had felt like she _should_. Her father _should_ be a part of her life. Her children _should_ know their grandfather. Why? He'd never done anything but make her miserable.

"Maybe what happened Sunday was a good thing," Sydney whispers. "He gave me an excuse to cut him out of my life. I think I've been looking for one for years." It hurts her to realize that maybe he's been subconsciously looking for a way to remove himself from hers, as well. Spending time together was just far too painful for the two of them.

"Cutting him out of your life would certainly be the easiest thing to do," Marguerite observes.

Sydney bristles at Marguerite's quietly disapproving tone. "Just because it's the easiest doesn't mean it's the wrong decision," Sydney says softly.

"No," Marguerite agrees. "It doesn't."

There is a long moment of silence between the two women. "Do you and Michael have plans tonight?" Marguerite finally asks.

"Yeah," Sydney says, wiping a few stray tears away with the heel of her hand. "An art gallery opening. The artist is the daughter of a client of Michael's. He acted guilty even asking me to go with him, Marguerite. He's terrified of treating me like a trophy."

"Michael--" Marguerite pauses as if trying to choose her words carefully. "Michael is a man who has everything he's ever dreamed of in life. Marriage, family, career, money. Your father just made him sit back and wonder if he didn't forget about what you wanted in the process of getting all of those things."

"But he didn't," Sydney insists. "We've done everything together, Marguerite. Ever since we've been married, we've made every decision together, we've always done what we thought was best for us, for the family. Me quitting work, his taking the job here in New York-- it's all been a joint decision. The family is both of our first priority."

"I know, sweetheart." Sydney detects a certain fondness in her mother-in-law's voice. "Michael does, too. But of course when someone suggests that you're not happy, and that he's the reason-- it's going to hurt him. Your happiness is so important to him."

"I know it is," Sydney says with a slight smile. "Look-- I should go, Marguerite, I want to get some laundry done before the girls wake up from their nap."

"All right. And Sydney--" Marguerite sounds suddenly hesitant. "Are we okay? I really didn't think I did anything wrong by inviting your father, but I would hate for you to be mad at me."

Sydney sighs. "I don't want to argue about it, Marguerite." The thing is, she still thinks it was inappropriate of Marguerite to invite her father, and whether the confrontation with him had been a good thing or not, she resented having been put in a situation where she had to have it. "I'll talk to you soon, okay? Emily's birthday is right around the corner."

"Time moves so fast, doesn't it?" Marguerite marvels. "Your birthday is even sooner than Emily's, dear, then Jack's is in July, and Grace's in October, and before you know it you'll have a new little one."

"I know," Sydney says, touching her stomach. "There's still so much to do. I'm almost ready to start on the new nursery, Marguerite, I'll have to show you what I'm planning when you come for Emily's birthday. Maybe it'll even be partly done by then."

"But then where will I sleep?" Marguerite laughs. "You won't have a guest room anymore."

"Wow, you're right," Sydney realizes. "But the sofa in Michael's study folds out into a bed, you can always sleep there. But if my dad still comes--" she breaks off suddenly.

"Do you still want him to?" Marguerite asks.

Sydney pauses. "I don't think so," she says softly. "I can't risk a scene at my little girl's birthday party, I just can't." She sighs. "The thing is, I think Emily would probably like to have him here."

"Do what you think is best, Sydney," Marguerite advises.

"I know."

It's just so hard, sometimes, to know what the best thing is.


	41. Part FortyOne

"Daddeeeee!"

Sydney brightens as she hears Michael's key in the front door and the sound of her little girl's footsteps, followed, today, by Jack's. For once, Sydney isn't standing at the stove, slaving over a hot meal; she is descending the stairs in an elegant midnight blue dress, her hair curled and pulled back, her makeup flawless. She feels glamorous; she thinks there is a reason she started enjoying Michael's office functions infinitely more after the children were born. It is nice, once in awhile, to leave the baby bottles and Matchbox cars behind and just feel beautiful.

"Hi, princess," she hears Michael say. "And Jack. You were able to tear yourself away from your basketball hoop and come say hi to your old man for once?"

Jack sounds sheepish. "Amanda's bringing Aaron over when she comes to baby-sit tonight," he admits, naming Amanda's six-year-old brother. "I've been waiting for them."

"Of course," Michael laughs.

"Aaron's going to stay here overnight, Michael," Sydney says as she appears at the bottom of the stairs. "I thought Amanda could just put him to bed when she puts Jack and Em down, and there's no point in her waking him when we-- what?" Michael is staring at her, wide-eyed.

"Sydney-- wow," he says, shaking his head. "That dress is insane."

"You like?" she asks with a delighted smile.

"I like very much," he says, setting Emily down so he can kiss his wife. "I-- wow." He shakes his head.

"What?"

"Nothing," he says, looking away with an embarrassed smile. "It's just that after all these years, you'd think I'd be used to how beautiful you are."

Sydney feels tears spring to her eyes. "God, I love you," she says, pulling him toward her for another kiss. The kids are still there, Jack telling Emily jokes that send her into gales of laughter, but Sydney barely notices. All she can see is the gorgeous man before her who, after all this time, still looks at her like she is the most amazing thing he's ever seen.

"What do you need to do to get ready?" she finally manages to ask.

He checks his watch. "Doesn't look like I have time for a shower," he says. "But I want to change. Jake asked if we wanted to go out with him and Heather for a bite after we've made an appearance at the opening, is that okay? Or are you and Baby hungry now?" he asks, touching her stomach.

"Baby and I are fine," she says with a laugh.

"Baby's name is Sam," Emily informs her.

"Emily, sweetie, you're going to have to get used to the idea that the baby might be a girl," Sydney says, smoothing a hand over her daughter's hair affectionately.

"But I want it to be a boy."

Sydney sighs. "Be a good girl and come with Mommy to find something for Amanda to fix you and Jack for dinner."

"I want pasketti," Emily says immediately.

"Spaghetti-os, maybe," Sydney responds. "Michael, do you want to go ahead and get ready? I'll come up in a minute."

"Sure, baby."

By the time she makes her way up to their bedroom, he is already shrugging into a gray suit jacket. "I love you in that suit," she says, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind and kissing his neck.

"Thanks, sweetheart," Michael says, smiling at her.

"So, we don't have plans for tomorrow night, do we?" Sydney asks, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "Audrey Byrne asked if we wanted to bring the kids over and have dinner," she says, naming Amanda and Aaron's mother. "She invited our new neighbors, the Maguires, too-- have you met them yet?"

"I met Trent for a minute the other day, I haven't met his wife or kids," Michael says, checking out his reflection in the mirror. "He's a cardiologist, I guess, and I think his wife is a stay at home mom, like you. I'm glad we'll have a chance to talk to them more, their daughter is about the same age as Emily. She turns four in June, I think he said."

"Oh, good, Emily needs a little friend," Sydney says delightedly. "Do they have other kids?"

Michael bites his lower lip as if trying to remember. "A one year old? A boy."

"How sweet," Sydney says with a smile, shifting on the bed. "So, about tonight. The artist is the daughter of a client?"

"Rebecca Harrison, daughter of Neil Harrison, founder of the Harrison Foundation for the Arts," Michael confirms.

"Your firm's representing charitable organizations now?" Sydney teases, standing and brushing imaginary lint from his lapel. "I thought you only handled evil corporations."

"Hey, is it my fault if the evil corporations are the only ones who can afford us?" Michael responds with a smile.

"Mmm, you're worth every penny, aren't you, baby?" Sydney says silkily, trailing kisses down his neck. "Best attorney in the city."

"Just the city?"

She smiles. "The country." She toys with the buttons of his pale blue shirt, wanting very badly to rip it off of him. "You're so talented." A kiss on the neck. "Smart." Another. "Powerful."

"Why do we have to go to this thing tonight again?" he asks, tracing one finger along the low neckline of her dress.

"I don't know," she says, shivering a little at his touch. "I think it's good for your career, or something."

"Really?" Now his lips begin making a trail down her neck, and she gasps. "Because right now I'm having a hard time remembering what could possibly be more important than throwing you down on the bed and--"

The doorbell rings.

"Not now, Amanda," Michael groans.

Sydney laughs. "Later, baby," she promises, taking his hand. "Come on. The sooner we make an appearance, the sooner we can leave."


	42. Part FortyTwo

"So what do you think?"

Sydney glances away from the painting she stands before to see who asked the question. An attractive woman who looks to be in her mid-thirties stands beside her, looking not at Sydney but at the abstract painting in front of them.

"I don't know much about art," Sydney says hesitantly.

"Yeah?" the woman says, still looking at the painting instead of at Sydney. "Well, I have a Master's in Art History. And I think this is the ugliest thing I've ever seen."

Sydney lets out a burst of relieved laughter. Everyone else she's talked to at the gallery has behaved as if they are looking at the works of Pablo Picasso. Sydney can't quite bring herself to take the whole event so seriously. "The most accurate description I've heard all evening," she tells the woman.

"Thanks," the woman says, turning to Sydney with a smile. "I don't think we've met. I'm Cheryl Maguire."

Sydney looks at the woman in surprise. "Maguire? You're not--"

"Trent Maguire's wife?" Cheryl cuts in. "I am. Do you know Trent?"

"My husband mentioned speaking to him," Sydney says delightedly. "I'm Sydney Vaughn. We live just down the road from you."

"Oh, right," Cheryl nods. "Your husband's an attorney, right?"

"He is," Sydney confirms. "It's so nice to meet you. I've been meaning to come by and say hello, I've just--"

"Oh, I know how that goes," Cheryl says dismissively. "Audrey Byrne says you're expecting your fourth child? You must be really busy."

"So busy," Sydney sighs. She feels nervous just thinking of all she has to get done before the baby comes. "But I'm sure you are, too. Michael and I just moved into our house a year ago, there's nothing more hectic than getting settled."

"Tell me about it," Cheryl rolls her eyes. "And my son Joey just started walking, he's getting into everything."

"I have that to look forward to soon," Sydney shudders. "My youngest little girl is six months now."

"Gosh, and you have another one on the way," Cheryl says sympathetically. "I can't imagine having four. Trent's been hinting around about wanting a third, I think he's insane."

"That's what I thought, when Michael mentioned wanting to have three," Sydney confesses with a smile. "Of course I caved in about a day."

"I don't think I know who Michael is," Cheryl says, taking a champagne flute from the tray of a passing waiter as she glances around the gallery.

"Oh, he's-- there he is," Sydney says, nodding to where Michael stands talking to a man who she assumes must be Neil Harrison.

"Oops, don't look now, he's headed this way," Cheryl quips. Sydney smiles as Michael catches her eye and tosses her a little wave before heading over, Neil Harrison in tow.

"Hey, sweetheart," Michael says, dropping a kiss on her cheek. "Here you go." He hands her the glass of water that was his reason for leaving her side. "Sorry I took so long. I got a little sidetracked."

"That's quite all right, dear," Sydney responds, shooting a smile first at him, then at the attractive man next to him, who looks to be in his early fifties. "I've just been chatting with our new neighbor. I don't think you've met Cheryl Maguire?"

"No. Nice to meet you, Cheryl," Michael says with a smile, shaking her hand. "Syd, honey, this is Neil Harrison, the client I was talking about. Neil, my wife, Sydney."

"Nice to meet you," Neil says. He shakes her hand, then Cheryl's. "Cheryl, was it?"

"Yes," she says, returning his smile. "Harrison," she muses. "So the artist is your--"

"Daughter," Neil confirms. "She's very talented, isn't she?"

"I've heard a lot of positive comments," Cheryl says, smiling prettily. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I should probably see where my husband ran off to."

"It was nice meeting you, Cheryl," Neil says.

"You, too," she responds. "I'll see you tomorrow night, Michael and Sydney."

"At the Byrnes'," Michael remembers with a nod. "Right. Nice talking to you, Cheryl."

"You, too. Bye, Sydney."

"I'd actually better excuse myself, too," Neil says with a regretful smile. "Go congratulate my daughter. I'll call your secretary, Michael, set up a meeting for next week."

"Good," Michael says with a nod. "Bye, Neil."

Sydney murmurs a goodbye as well, then turns to Michael. "He can do that?" she muses. "Set up a meeting with you only a few days in advance?"

"Well, he's an important client," Michael shrugs.

Sydney toys with the lapels of his jacket. "And if I wanted to get some time alone with you," she says coyly. "How far in advance would I have to make an appointment?"

"Mmm," he says, frowning as if giving the question serious thought. "I'd say I'd need about five seconds to rearrange my schedule."

"That long, hmm?" Her voice has grown low, sultry, and she wants badly to kiss his neck, to open his shirt and taste his collarbone.

"What do you say we get out of here?" he asks, and she hears that his voice has also grown husky.

"We could," she agrees. She moves close to whisper in his ear. "Or we could just find a storage room or an empty closet and just…you know…"

"You're so naughty," he whispers back.

"Can you blame me?" She lets a hand move to rest on his waist, lightly, barely. With their words acting as foreplay, he looks as if the action is almost too much for him. "We haven't made love in almost a week."

"Poor baby." He's not even touching her, but the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice, is so intense she feels as if he is. "Miss me?"

"Very, very much."

"Let's go home," he urges.

She pulls away, just a bit, glancing around the gallery. "What about Jake and Heather?"

"I thought we'd leave them here."

"No!" Sydney laughs; it eases the tension of the last few moments. "Aren't we supposed to have dinner with them?"

"I'm willing to sneak out and make up an excuse later if you are."

Sydney smiles devilishly. "Or," she says slowly. "We could do my idea and still make it to dinner."

"What idea?"

She gives him a Look.

"The coat closet?" he yelps, a little too loudly. Two or three partygoers glance in his direction.

"Not now that you've said it so loud," she giggles. "Storage room."

"Syd." Michael is actually blushing. "We're married. We have our own house and our own bed. There's no reason for us to sneak into the storage room at some art gallery like we're--"

"Spies taking a secret meeting?" She suggests, thinking of her nightmares. "That's what makes it so sexy, don't you think?"

"You're crazy." But there is something in his eyes that makes her think that he doesn't think she is that crazy at all. Or that if she is, he doesn't mind. And it is that look that encourages her to lean forward and whisper in his ear.

"Meet me there in five minutes."


	43. Part FortyThree

After a much-needed tryst in the storage room, Sydney and Michael slip away from the gallery without saying goodbye to anyone; on Monday, Sydney knows that Michael will call Neil and say he's sorry he didn't say goodbye, but that his wife didn't feel well-- morning sickness in the evening, wouldn't you know. He'll tell Jake the same, but he'll let a devilish glint creep into his eye, and Jake will shake his head and say something derisive like, "You two have a serious problem."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call it a problem," Michael will say with a smile.

Jake will clap Michael on the shoulder. "I'd certainly call four rugrats a problem, but then, that's just me. See you later, Mike."

Michael and Sydney go home in comfortable, sated silence. "What time did we tell Amanda?" Michael wonders as he turns the car onto their street.

"Midnight." Sydney glances at her watch. It's not much past ten o'clock. "Maybe she'll get home early enough that she can actually go meet up with her friends, or something."

"Did she drive over?" Michael asks, frowning at the sight of the Jeep that sits in their driveway.

"That wasn't here when we left," Sydney responds.

Michael's frown deepens, and they start into the house warily. It's dark, save for the glow of the TV in the living room, which illuminates the figures of two teenagers on the couch, making out fiercely.

Michael turns on the living room's light, and Amanda and a teenaged boy Sydney doesn't recognize jump apart.

"God, I'm sorry!" Amanda yelps. "I didn't think you'd be home till-- I'm sorry!"

"Amanda--" Michael stops suddenly, and Sydney glances at him. He looks as if he is unsure quite how to react to this. "I know we've never specifically discussed whether or not you could have-- um-- _friends_ over when you baby-sit--"

"Oh, God," Amanda mutters, looking as if she wishes the floor would swallow her up. The young man seems unconcerned.

"--But this is really inappropriate," Michael continues. "You're supposed to be watching our kids. I know they're asleep, but--"

"Daddeeee!"

Michael's eyes widen as Emily flies into the room and into her father's arms. "Princess," he says, surprised.

"Hi, Mommy," Emily adds, twisting in her father's arms to kiss her mother's cheek.

"Emily, darling, what are you doing up?" Sydney asks.

"I got up to ask Manda for a glass of water." Michael shoots Amanda a look that plainly says, _that's why you don't make out with your boyfriend in our living room_. "Hi, Manda! Hi, Jason!"

Sydney watches as Michael's eyes pop at the realization that his daughter knows this boy's name. "Emily, sweetheart," Michael says slowly. "How many times have you met Jason before?"

"Um--"

"You know, Amanda and I are standing right here," Jason speaks up for the first time. He is slightly grungy, Sydney notes, in baggy jeans and a t-shirt bearing the logo of a band she's never heard of, but not unattractive. "You don't have to ask a three-year-old--"

"I'm almost four," Emily interrupts.

"Look, let's not make this into a bigger deal than it needs to be," Sydney cuts in smoothly. "Like you said, Michael, we've never discussed whether or not Amanda can have friends over--"

"Oh, God," Amanda mutters. Sydney has never seen her face so red.

"--but Amanda, it really is inappropriate of you to invite guests into our home without permission, and we'd like for this not to happen again. Understood?"

"Yes," Amanda replies meekly.

"Good," Sydney says. "Now, Emily, sweetheart, come with Mommy to go check on Gracie. Michael, why don't you pay her and-- you'll give her a ride home, Jason?"

"Yeah," Jason says sullenly.

"Come upstairs when you're done," Sydney tells Michael as she takes Emily from him, kissing his cheek. "And be nice," she whispers in his ear.

She puts Emily down, and the two of them walk upstairs together; when they reach Grace's room, Sydney lifts her again so that she can look into Grace's crib.

"Do you like her jammies, Mommy?" Emily whispers. "I helped Manda pick them out."

"You're a good big sister to help with her," Sydney says fondly, kissing her daughter's cheek. "Can you believe that when the new baby comes, Grace will be a big sister, too?"

"She'll be too little to help you much as me, though," Emily tells her.

Sydney smiles at the slight hint of defensiveness in Emily's voice. She can't help but wonder if in a couple of years, Grace and Emily will race to the front door when Michael comes home, fighting to be the first to get hugs and kisses from Daddy. "Yes, she will," she agrees. "Now let's get you a glass of water and get you back to bed, okay, darling?"

"Okay!"

Sydney gets her daughter a glass of water and settles her into bed. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Mommy?"

"Yes?"

Emily hesitates. "It's okay if the baby's a girl," she says. "I want it to be a boy, but if it's not, it's okay."

"Well, that's good to hear," Sydney says with a smile.

Emily smiles back. "What will the new baby look like?"

Sydney laughs. "I don't know, sweetheart. Like me and Daddy."

Emily considers. "Will he have brown eyes like you and me?"

"Maybe." Sydney suddenly has a vision of a little boy with brown hair and brown eyes like her, and Michael's killer smile. Jack has that smile, too, as well as Michael's green eyes; Sydney can just imagine him charming the young ladies with that grin when he gets older.

"What are you thinking about, Mommy?"

Sydney smiles at her daughter. "About how much Jack is going to look like your daddy when he gets big."

"When I get big, will I be pretty as you?"

Sydney can't help but feel touched by the question. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Daddy thinks you're beautiful."

Sydney's smile softens. "Yeah, I think he does." She brushes a few strands of hair away from her daughter's forehead. "I think you'll be even prettier than me."

"Really?"

"Really."

Emily thinks for a minute. "Will I get married and have babies?"

"If you want to," Sydney tells her. "You can have and be anything you want."

"Good," Emily decides. "A-cause I want to be a mommy. And a doctor and a ballerina."

"A ballerina, huh?" Sydney and Emily both look up to see Michael standing in the doorway. "Would you like to learn how to be a ballerina, sweetheart?"

"Yes."

Michael approaches the bed. "We'll have to see what we can do about that, okay, sweetheart?" he says, catching Sydney's eye. "Maybe you can start taking ballet classes."

"Good." Emily grins. "Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."


	44. Part FortyFour

Sydney slips an arm around Michael's waist as they start down the hall toward their bedroom. "Did you check on Jack and Aaron?"

"Yeah. Amanda let them pitch a tent down in the rec room," he says. "Pretend like they're camping."

"Oh, that sounds like fun," Sydney says, snuggling closer to him. "I'm surprised Em didn't beg to camp, too."

"She might have. I didn't get the details," Michael says. "Our conversation pretty much consisted of me handing her some cash and her saying, '_Oh, uh, Jack and Aaron are sleeping in a tent in the rec room. Pretending they're camping_.'"

"God, didn't you feel about a million years old lecturing them about _appropriate behavior_?" Sydney giggles.

"Sydney, I really don't think--"

"They probably think we're the oldest, stuffiest couple in the world." They reach their bedroom, and Sydney undoes the belted waist of her wraparound dress. "Little do they know that while Amanda was trying to keep Jason's hands away from the zipper of her pants, you had me naked up against the wall of a storage room."

"I really don't think this is funny, Sydney." Michael takes off his jacket and tosses it in the general direction of an empty chair. "And you know what really burns me? Emily _knew_ Jason. Do you think she walked in on them doing God knows what before, or do you think Amanda, like, introduced them and told her not to tell Mommy and Daddy about him?"

"Who cares, Michael?" Sydney asks impatiently, selecting a nightgown from her drawer.

"I care, Syd." Michael's dress shirt lands on top of his jacket. "Either our baby-sitter is asking our daughter to lie for her, or Emily's walking in on them doing inappropriate things."

"Kissing?" Sydney asks bemusedly. "Emily's seen people kiss before, Michael. Hell," she smirks. "She could walk in on far more inappropriate behavior in our bedroom on any given night."

"No, she couldn't, because we lock the door," Michael insists. "And anyway, we're married."

"Oh, and I suppose you spent your teen years saving yourself for me, is that it?"

"You're completely missing the point," Michael says, frustrated. "It's bad enough that Emily-- or Jack, by the way-- could and probably has walked in on them, but Amanda's supposed to be watching our kids. Would she have even heard the baby monitor?"

"I know, Michael," Sydney sighs, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I don't like her having him here, either, and I told her so. But it probably won't happen again--"

"You mean she won't let us catch her again."

Sydney rolls her eyes. "Can we forget about this long enough to go down to the kitchen and make something to eat?"

"Oh." He frowns. "Of course. I'm sorry, honey. You must be starving."

"Not too bad," she admits. "I kind of pigged out on hors d'oevres at the gallery."

"That's okay." Michael smiles, and he approaches her, planting a kiss on her lips. "You're having our baby." They part, and he regards her seriously. "So this has been interesting," he says with a nod.

"What has?"

"Seeing how it's going to be." A flicker of a smile crosses his face. "I'm going to be the mean parent."

"Shut up," she says with a laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I am _so_ the mean parent. I'm the one who won't let Emily have whipped cream and chocolate on her ice cream because she'll make a mess. You're the fun one, taking them out to play hockey and see the dinosaurs at the museum on the weekends." She considers. "Though I can see you not reacting so well what, ten or twelve years from now, when that's Emily or Grace with her boyfriend on the--"

"Please don't even say it," he winces. "I don't want to have to think about that until it's thrown in my face, and if that never happens, I'll be the happiest man alive."

"You know, it's not like Amanda and Jason were even having sex," Sydney rolls her eyes.

"He was touching boob, Sydney."

Sydney bursts out laughing. "You know, last I heard, that doesn't qualify as sex. It can't actually get you pregnant."

Michael nods with mock seriousness. "You also can't get pregnant if you do it standing up. Or underwater."

"Is that what you told your high school girlfriends?"

Michael laughs. "Come, my dear," he says. "I'll make you a sandwich. You must be hungry after…before."

"So hungry."

Their eyes lock for a moment. "I'll-- I'll tell you what," he says. "You stay here, and I'll bring you the sandwich."

"Ah, a servant," she sighs, flopping down on the bed. "I always wanted one of those."

"I think I'd rather be your love slave."

"I think I'd like even better to be yours."

Their eyes lock for another moment. The moment is dangerous. Electric.

"Go make the sandwiches, Michael," she says after a long moment, her voice low.

"Your wish is my command." He moves to kiss her on the cheek before he leaves the room. It takes everything in her power to keep herself from grabbing him. Stopping him from going anywhere.

Instead she lies back on the bed, anxious in anticipation of the food.

And something else.


	45. Part FortyFive

__

"I think I'd rather be your love slave."

"I think I'd like even better to be yours."

A grin spreads across Sydney's face as she thinks of the words she and Michael exchanged only a few minutes before. She can't believe the things that come out of their mouths sometimes. The thing is, she thinks she'd enjoy every minute of being Michael's love slave. He's such an amazing lover. So confident in the bedroom. There is something so sexy about a man who knows he can make you feel better than you've ever felt in your life, and who delivers every time.

He enters the room now, carrying a tray that holds two sandwiches, cut in half; a fruit salad she made earlier; and a bottle of water with two glasses.

"My hero," she sighs.

"There's so much great stuff in the fridge," he says, an excited grin playing about his face. "You got that great crusty bread I like, and tons of fresh vegetables, and roast beef."

Sydney smiles. Michael eats meat for lunch in the city all the time, but she rarely keeps any at home. "I was in a good mood when I went to the store today, and for me, a good mood translates into lots of shopping."

"Why were you in such a good mood?" he asks with a smile, feeding her a bite of the sandwich he made for her. Sydney tastes avocado, sprouts, and tomatoes. "Looking forward to tonight?"

She grins. "If I'd known exactly what was going to happen tonight, Michael, I don't know how I'd have made it through the day."

"God, that was incredible, wasn't it?" he asks wonderingly, as if he can't quite believe what happened between them at the gallery.

"So incredible." She feeds him a bite of his roast beef and cheese sandwich. "Tonight was just what the doctor ordered," she declares. "You kept saying we didn't have to go out tonight, but I wanted so badly for things just to be normal between us--"

"What do you mean?" he asks with a frown. "You don't think things have been normal?"

Sydney sighs, struggling for the best way to put her thoughts into words. "I think last weekend was really hard on both of us, Michael, and that we needed what happened in the storage room. We wouldn't have even had to go out, we just needed a night to focus on each other and realize how great we are together."

He smiles, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face. "We are pretty perfect for each other, aren't we?"

"Yeah, I think we are," she says, returning his smile. "In the bedroom, out-- we both know when to take control, and when to step back and let the other do it. We both know what we need to do to contribute to this marriage, to this family. It's not a financial partnership, or a business partnership," she says, thinking of what Marguerite said about her father equating money with power. "It's a marriage, and we both bring our own strengths to it, and it works for us."

"I'm-- sorry if I've been acting kind of weird this week," he confesses, brushing a hand across her cheek. "The weekend did kind of throw me, and it took me a few days to remember all that."

"Me, too," Sydney sighs, thinking of the way she cried herself to sleep the night before.

Michael seems to think of that at the same moment. "Do you want to talk about last night?"

She snuggles closer to him. He takes the food tray and sets it on the floor, wrapping his arms around her. "I just imagined this really horrible future for us."

"Like your nightmares?" Michael asks.

"Worse." Sydney shivers. "In the nightmares, we're always apart because of some bizarre circumstance. Last night I was imagining we were apart because we stopped talking to each other and remembering how important we are to each other and--" she stops, feeling near tears.

"That sounds really awful," he whispers, pulling her tighter.

"We just kind of drifted apart," Sydney says softly. "And we were both miserable."

"So let's not let that happen," he suggests. "Let's keep thinking of all of the great things we have to look forward to--"

"Like Sam or Maggie," Sydney says with a smile, touching her stomach.

"And the house in Jamaica," Michael grins.

"And new friends," Sydney says, thinking of Cheryl and Trent.

"And not let all of the bad things--"

"Like a father who'll never understand how happy I am," Sydney sighs.

"And old friends who we may never work things out with," Michael grimaces, undoubtedly thinking of Kerri and Eric.

"Don't forget a baby-sitter who makes out with her boyfriend on the job," Sydney giggles.

"Right," Michael says with a smile. "Let's not let all of those things make us forget what we have, okay?"

"Michael, I love you so much," Sydney sighs.

"I love you, too, Sydney," Michael smiles.

She kisses him, and as she does, she knows that that's the most important thing-- that they love each other. She doesn't have to worry that their lives are too perfect-- there are too many little complications and unresolved problems for that. But they're great, and if they can just remember what they have with each other, she knows that everything will work out in the end.

And they'll have one hell of a journey along the way.

**THE END**


	46. Epilogue

Sydney stands on a chair, fastening a crepe paper streamer to the ceiling. It is Emily's birthday, and though they are throwing their daughter a relatively small party-- the guest list includes Marguerite, a few neighbors, and Jake and Heather--Sydney has gone overboard with the decorations. Emily started ballet lessons with Cheryl and Trent's daughter Anne Marie a few weeks ago, so the entire first floor of their house has been done in a ballerina theme-- pink and white crepe paper streamers, a ballerina centerpiece for the dining room table, not to mention the elaborate ballerina cake Sydney ordered from her favorite bakery in New York.

The month of April came and went relatively uneventfully. Sydney celebrated her thirty-fourth birthday with the kids and Michael; Michael let Emily pick out the cake, so Sydney blew out candles from the top of a chocolate concoction decorated with Sesame Street characters. It was a fun evening; Michael ordered in from a fantastic Italian restaurant, and after dinner and cake, she opened her gifts-- Jack and Emily had worked together on a picture of their family that Sydney swore would hang on the fridge forever, and Michael gave her a beautiful silver bracelet that was engraved, simply, _To my love, from yours._

And, a week later, she and Michael celebrated their tenth wedding anniversary with a night completely alone. Jake and Heather came and stayed with the kids-- though Amanda had baby-sat for the Vaughns a couple of times since Michael and Sydney had caught her with Jason, they decided that an overnight job might not be the best idea, plus Heather thought this might be a good chance to convince Jake how wonderful having a baby would be-- and Michael and Sydney rented a room at the Plaza. They ordered room service and spent the entire night talking and making love; it was one of the most perfect nights Sydney could remember having since their trip to Jamaica. Speaking of which--

"Happy anniversary, baby," Michael said that night, handing her a piece of paper.

"Michael, what's this?" she asked, bewildered. She unfolded the paper to reveal a picture of a house that looked to be even more beautiful and more luxurious than their New York home-- plus it had the added bonus of sitting on the beach.

"Just an idea," Michael said with an excited grin. "I've been talking to a real estate agent down in Jamaica, and we can get this place for a steal, Syd. We'll want to go down and look at it in person first, of course, but I think it looks perfect. What do you think?"

Sydney shook her head. "Michael, what are you planning on doing with this most of the year? Renting it out?"

"Maybe," Michael said with a shrug. "But I figure we can keep spending progressively more time there every year, and then when the kids are all out of school--"

"Which will be about a million years from now," Sydney groaned.

"--I can retire, and we can live there most of the year, maybe even full time. Or we can spend six months of the year traveling, six months there. What do you think, Syd?"

Sydney sighed. "I think--" She grinned almost in spite of herself. "I think it sounds perfect, Michael."

Today, on the day that their oldest daughter turns four years old, Michael rushes into the dining room. "Sydney, honey, get down from there. I'll do that for you."

"That's okay, I've almost got it." Sydney fastens the streamer in place; Michael helps her down from the chair when she is finished.

"I'm not sure why you're doing so much decorating in here, anyway," Michael says with a grin. "It's a beautiful day, and there are so many balloons in the backyard our neighbors probably think the circus has come to town."

"Our daughter only turns four once, Michael," Sydney scolds. "Don't you want--"

Simultaneously, the doorbell rings, and Emily calls, "Mommy!"

"That'll be the cake," Sydney says, rushing for the door. "See what Emily wants, won't you, Michael? And then you'd better hurry and go get your mother from the airport." She snatches up her checkbook and throws the door open. "How much do I--" The sentence dies on her lips. "Dad?"

"I'm not staying," he blurts out. "I just came to drop off a gift."

"You flew to New York to drop off a gift?" Sydney asks uncomprehendingly. "Postage is cheaper than a plane ticket, Dad."

"Syd?" Sydney closes her eyes and mutters a curse under her breath as Michael comes up behind her. "Will you help Emily, she wants to wear her new blue dress, and I don't-- what are you doing here?"

Sydney's father looks away. "I just came to drop off a gift."

"Great," Michael says shortly, taking the large gift-wrapped box from his father-in-law's arms. "Thank you. Now please leave, before our daughter sees you and wants you to stay."

"Michael--" Sydney shakes her head. "It's okay. I'll talk to him. Dad, let's go outside."

"Honey, are you sure?" Michael asks, brow knitted in concern. "Because--"

"It's okay. Just-- keep the kids occupied, okay?" Sydney shoots Michael a reassuring smile.

"Okay," Michael gives Jack one last, wary look before heading back into the house.

"We can--" Sydney gestures vaguely to the front stoop; the two of them sit down.

"So how is everyone?" her father asks.

Sydney looks at him in disbelief. He has just traveled a long distance after not speaking to her for more than a month, and now he wants to make small talk?

"They're-- they're great," she says haltingly. "Uh-- Jack finishes the first grade in a few weeks." She looks straight ahead instead of at her father. Maybe if she doesn't look at him, she can pretend she is telling this to someone else. Someone who didn't belittle her entire lifestyle not so long ago. "His baby-sitter let him and a friend pitch a tent in the rec room a few weeks ago, and he's been obsessed with camping ever since. Michael is taking him as soon as school gets out for a few days, that's one adventure I'm glad I'm not going to be a part of." She glances at her father; his face is neutral, impassive. "You don't want to hear this."

"No, of course I do," her father says quickly. "Please. Go ahead."

"All right." Sydney takes a deep breath. "Emily started ballet lessons. She's only had a couple of classes so far. Her teacher says she's not the best dancer in the class, but that she's a natural performer."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Sydney glances at her father and sees that a tiny smile is playing about his lips.

"And Grace is wonderful. So beautiful," Sydney smiles fondly. "Doing everything right on schedule. We're sure she's going to walk before she's a year."

"And little-- Sam, is it? Or Maggie?"

"He or she is fine," Sydney says with a smile, touching her stomach. "I've been busy redecorating the nursery, Michael wanted to wait till we knew the sex of the baby, but I wanted to just do it in yellow. Then the other day I found this adorable sky blue wallpaper with clouds, I think it'll be great whether the baby's a boy or a girl." She stares down at her hands. "So I guess that's all that's new with us."

There is a long moment of silence. "Thank you for the gift." She is about to stand and go inside when her father starts speaking.

"Your mother found out she was pregnant with you not long after she got her PhD."

Sydney looks at her father in shock. They haven't spoken about her mother in years.

"We didn't plan it, we weren't going to have children until she'd been working for a few years, got established with her career. Truthfully, I think we might have ended up putting it off forever, so it was a blessing that it happened accidentally."

_Yeah, you've certainly treated me like a blessing, haven't you, Dad?_ Sydney thinks bitterly, but she bites her tongue.

"She talked about turning down the position," her father says, turning to look at her. "Staying home with you until you were old enough to go to school. I convinced her that that would be a mistake, that she could do both, have the career she'd worked so hard for and be a good mother."

"She was a good mother," Sydney says, her voice low.

"Yes, she was," her father agrees. "But I know she regretted not being there for you more. Being told about your first steps from a nanny."

"So why are you telling me this?" Sydney demands. "Is this your way of letting me know my decision to stay home with the babies is okay with you? I don't need it to be okay with you, Dad. And Mom was in a completely different position than I was, than I am. I wasn't on the verge of a great academic career, I was indifferent about my job. Her mother didn't--" she feels tears spring to her eyes. "Her mother didn't die when she was six years old and leave her with a father who didn't give a damn about her."

"I gave a damn about you, Sydney. I give a damn about you," her father says angrily. "Don't you see? Yes, I would like to see you pursue a career, but it's mostly--" He looks away. "It scares the hell out of me to see you give so much of yourself to him, to them." He shakes his head. "I loved your mother with everything I had, and when I lost her, I lost everything."

"You still had me," Sydney says sadly. "And you didn't even care."

"I cared," her father insists. "I just had to keep my distance. But it didn't-- it didn't work. Keeping my distance didn't make me love you any less. It just kept me from really knowing you."

Sydney looks down at her feet, unsure of what to say.

"So I guess what I'm here to say is that I'm glad you didn't end up like me," he says, his voice low. "It scares me to see you give so much to your family, but at the same time-- I'm glad you're able to. It's not worth it if you don't. I'm proud of you."

Sydney stares at him for a long moment. She thinks this is the first time she's ever heard him say the words. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He rises from the stoop. "I should be going, I'm sure you have a lot to do to get ready for the party."

"Dad, you--" Sydney bites her lower lip. The admission that he's proud of her hardly changes everything between them, but it must have been hard to say, and he's come so far… "You don't have to go. You can come in."

"I shouldn't." Her father shakes his head. "It's Emily's birthday, and--"

"And I think she would really like to see her grandfather," Sydney says firmly. "Come on. You don't have to stay for the party. Just come give her your present yourself."

Her father hesitates before saying, "All right. I'd like that."

It isn't much. Sydney meant it when she said he doesn't have to stay for the party-- in fact, she hopes he doesn't. But she doesn't think there's any harm in letting him come in to say happy birthday.

She and Michael have finally come to terms with the fact that their existence isn't so perfect. They are going to have problems-- with parents, with friends, even with each other. Someday maybe it will be Emily in Amanda's place on the couch, and maybe she'll be doing more than just kissing. Maybe Michael will lose a terribly important case and his career will take a hit.

Who knows. Maybe one day one of their children won't take the path Sydney and Michael imagined for him or her, and they won't know how to deal with it.

It's impossible to predict the future. But maybe now that they have finally realized that they can make it if their existence is less than perfect, they won't feel so threatened when less than perfect things try to come in.


End file.
